Podcast appearances and mentions of allison wonderland

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 19, 2023 20:09

Do You Even Bonaroo? “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?” I'd like to imagine myself to be a theatrical entertainer, given any time to plan a performance, I might explore a “lineup” likened to those I've enjoyed in the past, as an avid raver and festival attendee. Being as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ is intended to be marketed as a brand, as well as myself as an artist, it would probably fall into form that a 3-Act lineup which includes S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ would include artists such as those referenced in “The Legend of S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ “ film series from ‘The Festival Project', slated to include multiple video-game themed “DJ Battles”, and ‘B2Bs' (or, back-to-back) performances by various artists from each major genre in the modern mainstream EDM scene. As the plot from the series revolves around the “anti-heroic” efforts of a less-than-likely hero, whose powers originate from a far away strange and mysterious extra-terrestrial multiverse-- separated only by the fabric of time and space, but connected through parallel realities of music by way of sounds and frequencies, S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ must journey through the World of Music and learn to ‘Drop The Bass” in time to save The World...or at the very least, save herself. Being as Bonnaroo Music Festival is a multi-genre camping festival, which boasts top-notch stages and production quality, I'd try to focus on reaching a broad number of participants; listeners and fans of every genre should find something to love (or dance to). The set as an entirety runs as a stage play, or musical, Opening with excerpts from the “Festival Project” series, a comedic scene acts as an intro to the opening act LSDream; However, though he begins as the ever-popular psychedelic DJ, a bass drop in his set unravels the fabric of time, sending the audience back by a decade, as he preforms the latter half of his set as Brillz, circa 2010; In the final moments of his set, another skit transitions the dancefloor into a flashback, as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ takes the decks to begin the infamous ‘93 To Infinity S Ū P ∆ S E T; a journey through time and music. As we transition through the nostalgic hits that tie us all together as music lovers, friends, and festival family, B2B Battles and Performances by Bass Music Staples create a moving interlude, featuring performances by favorites such as Allison Wonderland and REZZ, pioneers of legendary female artistry--finally leading into a finale, featuring DJ Dillon Francis (to everyone's confusion), resulting in an almost final DJ battle as the aforementioned battle for the win, leading into a surprise performance/ finale by “The King of Dubstep” , bringing the performance and festival entirety to a close--because--of course, that's an act you just can't follow. The set/lineup could be said to be interchangeable, with the progression of the series and between genres, the artists referenced tend to change, with the exception of LSDream/Brillz, (DJ) Dillon Francis, and the secret/surprise guest in the finale. Though this is an ongoing project, keep in mind that I submitted this “lineup” as an impromptu midterm assignment--based off of the repeated line from the saga “--But did you see the lineup?!” and the tagline of the series, “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?” {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

music world dj performance act b2b copyright edm dubstep rezz dj battles brillz bonnaroo music festival drop the bass lsdream allison wonderland

2010

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 19, 2023 20:09

Do You Even Bonaroo? “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?” I'd like to imagine myself to be a theatrical entertainer, given any time to plan a performance, I might explore a “lineup” likened to those I've enjoyed in the past, as an avid raver and festival attendee. Being as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ is intended to be marketed as a brand, as well as myself as an artist, it would probably fall into form that a 3-Act lineup which includes S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ would include artists such as those referenced in “The Legend of S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ “ film series from ‘The Festival Project', slated to include multiple video-game themed “DJ Battles”, and ‘B2Bs' (or, back-to-back) performances by various artists from each major genre in the modern mainstream EDM scene. As the plot from the series revolves around the “anti-heroic” efforts of a less-than-likely hero, whose powers originate from a far away strange and mysterious extra-terrestrial multiverse-- separated only by the fabric of time and space, but connected through parallel realities of music by way of sounds and frequencies, S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ must journey through the World of Music and learn to ‘Drop The Bass” in time to save The World...or at the very least, save herself. Being as Bonnaroo Music Festival is a multi-genre camping festival, which boasts top-notch stages and production quality, I'd try to focus on reaching a broad number of participants; listeners and fans of every genre should find something to love (or dance to). The set as an entirety runs as a stage play, or musical, Opening with excerpts from the “Festival Project” series, a comedic scene acts as an intro to the opening act LSDream; However, though he begins as the ever-popular psychedelic DJ, a bass drop in his set unravels the fabric of time, sending the audience back by a decade, as he preforms the latter half of his set as Brillz, circa 2010; In the final moments of his set, another skit transitions the dancefloor into a flashback, as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ takes the decks to begin the infamous ‘93 To Infinity S Ū P ∆ S E T; a journey through time and music. As we transition through the nostalgic hits that tie us all together as music lovers, friends, and festival family, B2B Battles and Performances by Bass Music Staples create a moving interlude, featuring performances by favorites such as Allison Wonderland and REZZ, pioneers of legendary female artistry--finally leading into a finale, featuring DJ Dillon Francis (to everyone's confusion), resulting in an almost final DJ battle as the aforementioned battle for the win, leading into a surprise performance/ finale by “The King of Dubstep” , bringing the performance and festival entirety to a close--because--of course, that's an act you just can't follow. The set/lineup could be said to be interchangeable, with the progression of the series and between genres, the artists referenced tend to change, with the exception of LSDream/Brillz, (DJ) Dillon Francis, and the secret/surprise guest in the finale. Though this is an ongoing project, keep in mind that I submitted this “lineup” as an impromptu midterm assignment--based off of the repeated line from the saga “--But did you see the lineup?!” and the tagline of the series, “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?” {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

music world dj performance act b2b copyright edm dubstep rezz dj battles brillz bonnaroo music festival drop the bass lsdream allison wonderland

2010

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 19, 2023 20:09

Do You Even Bonaroo? “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?” I'd like to imagine myself to be a theatrical entertainer, given any time to plan a performance, I might explore a “lineup” likened to those I've enjoyed in the past, as an avid raver and festival attendee. Being as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ is intended to be marketed as a brand, as well as myself as an artist, it would probably fall into form that a 3-Act lineup which includes S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ would include artists such as those referenced in “The Legend of S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ “ film series from ‘The Festival Project', slated to include multiple video-game themed “DJ Battles”, and ‘B2Bs' (or, back-to-back) performances by various artists from each major genre in the modern mainstream EDM scene. As the plot from the series revolves around the “anti-heroic” efforts of a less-than-likely hero, whose powers originate from a far away strange and mysterious extra-terrestrial multiverse-- separated only by the fabric of time and space, but connected through parallel realities of music by way of sounds and frequencies, S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ must journey through the World of Music and learn to ‘Drop The Bass” in time to save The World...or at the very least, save herself. Being as Bonnaroo Music Festival is a multi-genre camping festival, which boasts top-notch stages and production quality, I'd try to focus on reaching a broad number of participants; listeners and fans of every genre should find something to love (or dance to). The set as an entirety runs as a stage play, or musical, Opening with excerpts from the “Festival Project” series, a comedic scene acts as an intro to the opening act LSDream; However, though he begins as the ever-popular psychedelic DJ, a bass drop in his set unravels the fabric of time, sending the audience back by a decade, as he preforms the latter half of his set as Brillz, circa 2010; In the final moments of his set, another skit transitions the dancefloor into a flashback, as S Ū P ∆ ⓒ Я E E.™ takes the decks to begin the infamous ‘93 To Infinity S Ū P ∆ S E T; a journey through time and music. As we transition through the nostalgic hits that tie us all together as music lovers, friends, and festival family, B2B Battles and Performances by Bass Music Staples create a moving interlude, featuring performances by favorites such as Allison Wonderland and REZZ, pioneers of legendary female artistry--finally leading into a finale, featuring DJ Dillon Francis (to everyone's confusion), resulting in an almost final DJ battle as the aforementioned battle for the win, leading into a surprise performance/ finale by “The King of Dubstep” , bringing the performance and festival entirety to a close--because--of course, that's an act you just can't follow. The set/lineup could be said to be interchangeable, with the progression of the series and between genres, the artists referenced tend to change, with the exception of LSDream/Brillz, (DJ) Dillon Francis, and the secret/surprise guest in the finale. Though this is an ongoing project, keep in mind that I submitted this “lineup” as an impromptu midterm assignment--based off of the repeated line from the saga “--But did you see the lineup?!” and the tagline of the series, “Where Were You When The Bass Dropped?”

music world dj performance act b2b edm dubstep rezz dj battles brillz bonnaroo music festival drop the bass lsdream allison wonderland

“The Supacree Show”

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2023 22:33

I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back into the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating sun planet mcdonald alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters heck i am eminem plot persona multiverse salt lake city mercury guided arsenal void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm puzzle surface flashback ut fin whitney houston wishes salad fucking arrives mm ss ned technically blu pie assist morty int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol s p ruff mmm pretender untitled persephone posing fuckin humble pie collapsed pasquale dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit sighs uhh right right coughs caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches friar tuck rsvping outfitted owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat mazunte allison wonderland

“The Supacree Show”

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2023 22:33

I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back into the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating sun planet mcdonald alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters heck i am eminem plot persona multiverse salt lake city mercury guided arsenal void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm puzzle surface flashback ut fin whitney houston wishes salad fucking arrives mm ss ned technically blu pie assist morty int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol s p ruff mmm pretender untitled persephone posing fuckin humble pie collapsed pasquale dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit sighs uhh right right coughs caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled greeter pondered tres leches ninja assassin friar tuck rsvping outfitted owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat mazunte allison wonderland

“The Supacree Show”

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2023 22:33

I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back into the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating sun planet mcdonald alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters heck i am eminem plot persona multiverse salt lake city mercury guided arsenal void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm puzzle surface flashback ut fin whitney houston wishes salad fucking arrives mm ss ned technically blu pie assist morty int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol s p ruff mmm pretender untitled persephone posing fuckin humble pie collapsed pasquale dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit sighs uhh right right coughs caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled greeter pondered tres leches ninja assassin friar tuck rsvping outfitted owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat mazunte allison wonderland

“The Supacree Show”

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2023 22:33

I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back into the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating sun planet mcdonald alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters heck i am eminem plot persona multiverse salt lake city mercury guided arsenal void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm puzzle surface flashback ut fin whitney houston wishes salad fucking arrives mm ss ned technically blu pie assist morty int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol s p ruff mmm pretender untitled persephone posing fuckin humble pie collapsed pasquale dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit sighs uhh right right coughs caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches friar tuck rsvping outfitted owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat mazunte allison wonderland

My Music Episode 258 - Apricity

My Music

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 3, 2023 39:38

Canadian alternative pop artist Apricity presents her new single 'Allison Wonderland', a clever adrenaline-filled composition about imagining and seeking the type of relationship, love and companion you most want. A song that is, at the same time, a light forewarning about creating that perfect person in your mind. With an edge reminiscent of early Avril Lavigne and fueled by the creative inspiration of artists like Shirley Manson, Alanis Morrissette and Debbie Harry, Apricity dishes out attitude and melody in equal amounts. With her moniker derived from the Latin word meaning “basking in the warmth of the sun", Apricity's music offers alternative pop flair through the prism of 90s-inspired vibes with earlier singles permeated by more Evanescence-inspired dark tones. This new single follows 'All My Lies', released in 2021, and 'The Fear', released in 2022. "This song reflects the dream of having the perfect relationship that most want, even if it is a dream away. I was lucky again to work with Greg Critchley - an amazing songwriter - along with Thomas at Exeter Sound Studios and mixing engineer Vic Florencia," says Apricity. On 'Allison Wonderland', Apricity worked with a world-class team, including Toronto-based Juno-nominated and platinum awarded music producer Thomas McKay at Exeter Sound Studios, US-based Canadian songwriter Greg Critchley and legendary mixer / engineer Vic Florencia (Olivia Rodrigo, Hilary Duff, Blue Rodeo, Steven Page, Snoop Dog, Tanya Tagaq, Esthero, Joss Stone). #NewMusic #Storytelling #GreatMusic #SongWriting

music fear canadian toronto latin juno avril lavigne snoop dog hilary duff evanescence debbie harry joss stone shirley manson alanis morrissette blue rodeo steven page tanya tagaq apricity esthero allison wonderland

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

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Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

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Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

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Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

The HD Your BizÂ® Show - Human Design for Business with Jamie Palmer

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

united states god love jesus christ music women american fear time california live money black world president success social media trust english google babies hollywood starting apple spirit man los angeles technology body lost prayer las vegas media voice future space hell running energy real land living speaking sound west kingdom truth practice walk thinking miami building happiness dj chinese masters gold christianity depression reading government teaching heart fighting japanese devil turning moon spanish dance elon musk dc left dna holy drive leaving therapy satan write mom losing open darkness drop night twitch fake utah shame dive dead gods strange 3d ring alive aliens started poor asian toxic watching memories testing code dragon protect divine mexican monster sun fall in love drugs nazis run tree disasters attention created lack planet witness rain beyonce alaska stuck oprah winfrey standing captain ocean balancing curse reflecting mama hurt enemy sick childhood birds praying danger empathy apologies heard beatles kiss boom tough forgive shoes ugly cops eagles act dancing debt protecting cloud origins paradise flight promises fasting front lights nevada guilt monsters sing shit demons worse tiger panic bills wood driven ucla hang shooting singing michael jackson believing paying sitting suck native americans wear fill loneliness honestly pokemon traditional throw passing gotta ninjas paid pack smoke worlds library silent minds judas gps diving b2b fuck aftermath curiosity fuel emotion intention waste rock and roll window betrayal amen countdown died bass lonely underground jungle deeper grave bet ascension releasing expert marijuana solid kim kardashian beating smell hates echo limited hiding hanging ravens methods mike tyson crying superstar bitch baptist multiverse plans leap poison envy greed found zen sciences paint rivers closed coast joyful shut purple sad absolute goddess grass bought djs rape judging rocket bots mainstream trapped aligning mantra lizzo throwing glow sober oasis felt walks quien hawks gov edm thank god meditate shades nah nonsense silly shorts mad robin williams singles omg armor billie eilish decoding ludwig van beethoven ignite fin yang george lucas lied ducks lemon bus ranked ruined lala decided makers bare cousin surf myspace acid boosting alarm thc martyrs shrek touring bro bells matt damon whitney houston toxicity anarchy men in black laying goodnight closure watched rick and morty djing makes wandering burning man pit i love cigarettes upside heavens blackrock experimental pyramid white supremacy burnt tsa debating collisions malibu lay imperfection tied barely bag stunning mandarin bury goin bleeding sala betrayed ay lava rocking glitch cries abandonment two weeks tasty granny restless cree odd learned laid wet crows likeness unreal hershey pikachu good friends rotten attached drifting philosophical rewind yin pin blanket clique diplo robins chicken soup lucid sticks and stones kidd unmasked whoop emp dubstep northern lights lax auntie downside threaten skrillex black magic attracted of course blah mouths live nation sleepless trippin insomniacs edc carbohydrates fins vips delusions oh god manic bruh one world imitate unreleased time capsules chance the rapper choking energi silos white supremacists aw charmed pressed eskimos repression somethings electronic music fast forward sweater compression stocking delighted spirit animals raves watchful fetal flashing gestures synchronicities breadcrumbs swallowed code switching foxy truth hurts father time staple ancient egyptians rebuilt admiration lunacy randomly voiceless suess pave humpty dumpty save the date kandi killin unsuccessful deities shhhh daw sparrows huevos panicking ableton grand prize dillon francis cherished epitome synesthesia droughts laced butters time money rin supa unexplainable reawakening piecing chainsaws effing repeats lackey uhhh that guy blindly flatten white lights excision news channel medicine man will you givin stifle chava deafening whispered skyy symphonies festival season aight sunn big words coughs phone home everything everything callous jungle fever savin red blue jamies chala alternately tin roof where do we go bangarang in la hunny sprites uuml dissociative inwardly scary monsters gasping hey dude translucent wonderous this guy no sympathy adventure club aloft plur rezz plain jane xylophone female dj sleepin losin electric daisy carnival big drop romantically god on liquidate central washington inciting incident bloo lost lands disintegrate blindfolds hobo johnson ous alerted all seeing eye iridescence owsla abolishment look at taunted chiodos drapery blue red lizzard from first to last too deep windblown google university josh pan matt maeson abbot kinney steve erwin wubs grand delusion rocket summer phoenixx i died levitated respect it christ not brostep ease my mind sonny moore allison wonderland bass canyon dupstep

Business Models with Human Design - Leverage your profile to create your business offer

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 11, 2023 18:23

I am so excited to be here. I am going to talk to you today about business design, offer creation, and really developing a business model in alignment with your human design. And for today's focus, we're going to focus on the lines, the lines that make up your profiles in human design. So couple of caveats before we get started. First and foremost, I don't only look at the lines in your chart, so I don't just look at the profiles lines, I don't just look at the lines that appear after your gates. I look at type, I look at circuitry, I look at gates and channels, I look at the defined centers and I also look at sort of perspective and view as well as your determination when I think about making recommendations for someone's offer or someone's business model. The other piece that is really important to keep in mind is the lifestyle that you want to cultivate. Because if you think about building a business and you say, okay, I want to build this business and I want to do it in alignment with my design. I want to do it Inc. Congruence to who I am, yet you don't really think about where you want to end up. Oftentimes it gets you out of whack. So as we're going through this training and as we're going through this content today, I want you to keep in mind the fact that I don't just look at one part of the chart. So this is not a formula for you to say, oh, I'm a line three and align five, and here's what I'm going to do. I want you to look at this and I want you to learn and hear and understand that this is just one part of how you can cultivate a business model and an offer by design. And then the other piece that you have to also consider here is what do you want your life to look like? I don't necessarily need you to have the specifics, I just want you to know I want to end up in this general area. So if you want to build, say a business that affords you to work less and be around $500,000 a year, or if you want to build a multi seven figure business, you're going to need two very different business models potentially to get there. And so I want you to keep this in mind as you're going through this training. One of the biggest mistakes that I see many entrepreneurs make is they don't claim where they want to end up. And I always think of that Allison Wonderland quote where Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, which way should I go? And he responds, well, I don't know. Where do you want to go? And she's like, I don't know, , right? And he is like, well, any road's going to get you there? So the same goes when selecting a business model. When selecting an offer. The other piece that you have to keep in mind is how do you ideally support your client's best? And what boundaries do you need to keep in place? So there's a lot of caveats to consider here, so I'm not going to keep boring you with those. But please just keep this in mind that this is not like a formula where you can just look at one aspect. You have to consider all of the details and all of the nuance to really make this work for you in your business. And this is what I do inside my business design with human design course. So this is almost like a little sneak peek of that. So let's dive into the lines. So we're going to go through the six lines that make up the 12 profiles in human design. So the first one that I really like to start with obviously is line one. So these are people who they're going to have a deep area of expertise in one area. It's usually pretty niche from my experience. They do their homework. They're not people who are rushed into moving forward. They really need to honor the timing of their life. And for me, I like to say that these people are here to give a depth of knowledge about their area of expertise. They are subject matter experts. They have depth in nuance, in details. They would always rather have too much information and they weigh their options. They investigate, they research. They are here to establish a foundation. They are here to give others a sense of security. They're here to really do things in a safe way. So these are people who get into the nuance in the details. They are here to go deep with others and share their expertise. So think details, details, details here, these people are well researched. So these people go deep. There's no surface level stuff with these people. So this is the person where you want to learn all the things from on a certain topic. So the think of these people as the master of one, they have a PhD. And so it's important for them to understand they need to honor their own need to have a secure foundation in place so that they have the time to research and go really deep. They're going to be made crazy by people who want them to move into the experiment, who want them to move into action and try something without having all the details. And they're going to make people crazy who like to move fast. So potentially the line one, the researcher, as I like to say, is going to make people like an MG Or manifestor sort of crazy because they like to skip the details, they like to move fast, they don't like to be slowed down potentially. And of course, the line one, the researcher begs the question, am I allowing myself to geek out and go deep in my business model? What details are essential for me to have in place? Super important question. And of course I just want to say I should have added this one other caveat as you're listening to this, take what resonates and leave the rest and then be sure to honor your own strategy and authority, particularly your authority. Next up, we've got the line too. I like to call this the introvert. These are people who really rely on others to help them recognize their gifts. And they're here. They need to sort of leverage their strategy and authority to discern which gifts they bring out into the world. Which calls do they want to answer? And they're really here to give people an aha moment and then get out. They're not people who want to get caught in the weeds, right? Because they become really depleted when they spend too much time and other with others. And as a result, when they are with others too, too much, they can get pulled into these things that aren't necessarily something that nourishes them because they are naturally talented. So in a business, these are people who need cycles of rest in downtime with cycles of being seen. And these are people who really move from depletion to nourishment and back again. So business models need to really support this oscillation of being with the people or not, and they have to learn to be discerning based on their strategy and a authority. What are their talents versus saying yes to everything? So in business, these are people who want to sort of systematize, leverage and hone, do something once and use it in multiple places. And then for them learning to recognize where have I been recognized? What have I been recognized for, and how can I hone that? That's really important. So they have this poll and they're going to need to honor these periods of nourishment and too much recognition makes them feel depleted as well as too much being called out for and too much time alone. So there's really this balance that they have to strike for themselves. And when I think about the people who they're going to be crazy by, they're going to be made crazy by people who want them to constantly be on and available. That is not ideal for a line two, but they're going to make people crazy who want you to explain your process. Everyone's always asking line two, can you explain to me what you did here? And the lines two can't. They can't. They're not great at that. And so understanding that people need to just trust, allow them to show up, take them for what their word is, or just observe them doing their right. I always say Line twos , open up your zoom and just allow people to watch you do your thing, right? Because they'll learn by doing that. You'll get them an aha moment by doing that. And you don't have to explain your process, you're just in the zone. So the line two begs the question is, does my business model nourish me or deplete me? And how can I build in periods of alone time to hone my craft? Next up, we've got the line three. And as I like to say, the experimenter, these people, the ideally have the ability in their business models and in their offerings to try new things and experiment. These are people who are here to help others find the best route based on the line three's experience of seeing what works and what doesn't. So they're really here to support others in finding the optimal way for them to go from where they are to where they want to be by embodying the wisdom of their ups and downs and their trials and errors, and then sharing those with other people. So these people lead with the people they lead kind of by getting their hands dirty. And it doesn't necessarily mean that they are here to do things with others, but they need to experiment in their own process, in their own business in order to be able to share that with their clients. So business models for them really need to promote freedom and space to experiment. These are people who can see what is not working faster than other people, and they pivot so they can help people in a transition. They can help people pivot, they can help people change, they can help people transform. These are people who are fast on their feet. These are the people before building out an evergreening everything they need to hone their process. And so they also have to really learn to honor their need to break bonds with clients and support team. When things aren't working right, relationships doesn't mean the relationship is over. It just needs to be readjusted. It needs to be revamped. And so these people will be made crazy by people who want them to map out all the little details or people that think they're a failure because they've tried so many things and they're going to make anyone crazy who want sort of a one size fits all approach. They're not ideal for people who need to have the whole business plan laid out. And the line three experiment begs the question, does my business model give me the freedom to try new things and share my trials and tribulations to help others see the options and discern which way is best for them? Next up, we've got the line four, and as I like to say, the mayor, these are people whose business model ideally allows them to influence others. These are people who are here to be a megaphone of information in an area of expertise that they're passionate about. They're not here to create something new per se, okay? They're here to take in information and then amplify that information. Generally speaking, these people are not ideal for cold, cold traffic. They grow best through their network. So think affiliates, dream 100, referral relationships. These are also people who are not easily influenced by other people, and they lead by spending time listening to what their community needs. So they have to have this balance with people and alone time, and they must actually listen to the people to understand how to influence them. So their business model needs to be one where they balance understanding your community and influencing them. It's a two-way street listening, influencing. So these are people who can get really burnt out in one-to- one because it's just too much listening, too much listening, too much listening, and their quality of their network directly influences and impacts their suc success. So these are people who have to honor the need to spend time listening to people in their network so that they can get people to better understand them in order to gain more influence. They're going to be made crazy by anyone who is constantly flip flopping and changing their mind. I know my husband's a fourth line, it makes him crazy when my line three self wants to change things. They're going to make others crazy by listening to them and doing what they want anyway. So fourth lines will just be like, yep, and then just go do whatever they want to do anyways. And they're going to often, and I say often because I have seen a few exceptions to this, but they often repel people who come to them from cold traffic since they aren't here to influence anyone outside of their network. So the line four begs the question, whose system process philosophy can I align with, utilize, create agreements with so that I don't have to get caught in creation? And then how am I leveraging my network to grow? Okay, next up we've got the line five, the disruptor. As I like to say, these are people whose business model challenges the way things have always been done and show people a new way. These are people who are here to come in when everything else is failed and show people a new way. So these are folks because they live in the projection field, they need to be really clear with the communication about what they can and they cannot do. So boundaries for line five are really key to success. They're here to influence masses here to influence lots of people, but they must be hyper clear about what they will and they will not do. And these arepeople who lead by leading, they lead out in front. So these are people who are visionary. They make something new, they create their ip. They're people who make IP or intellectual property, and they elevate the people around them who they support. So for a line five, they really have to honor this need to disrupt things, and then they need to retreat, and then they need to disrupt, and then they need to retreat. And they're going to be made crazy by people expecting and projecting them to do and save the day for something that's not aligned for them, even though they've repeated themselves over and over and over again. Hang on, that's not what I'm here to do. I don't know how to do that. That's not what I'm great at. And clear communication becomes really key for the line five. And they're going to make people crazy who are not ready to challenge the status quo, and therefore those people will often want to burn them at the stake. That's a human design term, for their radical ideas. So when we come to the line five, the disruptor, it begs the, they beg the question, am I clearly communicating what I am here to challenge? Do I have good boundaries in place so that I don't try to save too much and get burned at the stake as a result? Next up, and last but not least, the line six, the mentor. These are people who need freedom and space in their business to come on and off the roof as they please, okay? So they're here to be of counsel and provide unbiased advice to those in their life. They lead by leading, they lead by observing. And oftentimes, more often than not, I see these people counsel leaders selectively, okay? They're not necessarily here to lock arms with people. They're kind of here to lead from the sidelines. These are people who need freedom and space in their business models, and they elevate the people who they support. They, they're all about helping you be the most embodied, authentic version of yourself. And so they really have a unique perspective, particularly once they get on the roof, but they don't want to be sort of the crabs in the bucket is the metaphor I always use when the crabs try to climb out of the bucket. And the crabs, if they just work together, they would all get out of the bucket, but instead they kind of pull each other down. Six lines don't want to be in that crab bucket, okay? They don't want to be pulled down in the mundane details of everyday life. And so they really need to honor their desire to have space to gain perspective. They're going to be made crazy by people constantly seeking their approval, particularly those who they haven't established trust or they don't have a relationship with. They're going to be made crazy by people who want them to get into the nitty gritty details of things. They're going to be made crazy, but anyone wants to lock them down or forces them to play middleman. These are people who need freedom and space, and they're going to make people crazy who want all the little nitty gritty details and the reasoning and the why knowing is inherent as part of a six line life. And you either trust it or you don't. And line six, the mentor begs the question, am I clearly communicating my values to attract leaders in my world to be of council four? Does my business support my inherent need for freedom and flexibility so that I have space to gain perspective? So that is what I have around building your business model offers and client journey in alignment with your human design. If you want to dig deeper into this content, please do go check out www.businessdesignwithhumandesign.com. Thank you so much for tuning in, and we'll see you soon. www.businessdesignwithhumandesign.com

phd offer hang ip leverage profile oftentimes human design generally business models congruence cheshire cat allison wonderland

poetry.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2022 26:28

DIPLO/THOMAS YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?! SUPACREE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS. DIPLO/THOMAS MAYBE TO YOU! SUPACREE I AM YOU!!' DIPLO Reveals The Seer's Stone. Oh, SHIT, Dude. Where'd you get that?! What's this story. No, don't go in there. Oh, look, a story— I told you this was going to be a long night. I was knocking back preworkout at 8 PM exactly, far out of sight from Travis Apple but not entirely out of mind, it was a personal feat to walk into the gym anymore, let alone by his desk—my spirit seemed to have other ideas at an occupation than I myself had formerly thought, but I was at clever best being dissociative now as I was ever, something springing from within me to be let loose, and though it could be, I thought my best to tame it. Professor Zimmerman It's you again… It's always me. So it is. I found something peculiar in a playback of last night's stream of the observatory— (But) How peculiar? Peculiar enough that I thought you might actually take interest. Touché. — I am dead. Oh fuck—he's dead too?! How'd he die? Let me guess—a drag race. Good guess, but no. Was it murder? It's always murder. Now, now, what's this? Don't touch it? What is it? —touch it and see. Ewhe. That's what I thought. Ketamine. Ketamine? Ketamine? Damn; are those two still doing drugs? They're alwYs doing drugs. That's semi-believable. Anyway. Was it a heart attack? Bingo! This is a heart attack! GODDAMMIT, YOU TWO—KNOCK IT OFF. Sorry— —sorry, mom. PROFESSOR ZIMMERMAN is looking through a telescope. Professor Zimmerman! What? What do you want? —my name in the history books; particularly and more specifically for discovering a previously unknown planet and it's inhabitant species. Fair. I meant— —professor Zimmerman— What do you want, from me? It's not entirely unrelated, I promise. Don't make promises you can't keep. Why would I do that? I don't know why women do what they do. That's sexist. It's honest. —no, to just—assume that I'm a woman. [an awkward silence; professor Zimmerman looks up from his studies to examine the short, rather stout, and particularly androgynous student before him] Oh, uh— [beat] I'm a woman. [in relief] Oh! —It's okay. Still, [disgruntled sigh] —it was sexist. Ugh! Anyway— 1.00 mile 10:17 Deadmau5, album title goes here I felt horrible for Brandon, who was eagerly giving his all—but by now physical attraction meant far more than too much to me, my sex drive climbing seemingly by the minute, and my own physique shrinking down into an admirable average, if not above average, by American standards—excluding of course, the Californians, by which standard I was still morbidly obsese as ever, and might as well just pair up with the likes of Brandon, who may have been equally gifted, were it not for his massive weight—then, it was also a selection of genetic particularities that my drive seemed to be fed by—and between the overall unremarkable appearance, it was the bad housekeeping and general disability to take the four otherwise well-mannered children into habitable people—not entirely his fault, and my own arrogance, failing to mention that by now I had become estranged from my own offspring, giving myself a self-entitled badge of abandonment. So I might as well be nothing. If not a mother, I thoughttrapped to myself—but I didn't think much of myself, besides being In some sort of hell, encapsulated and in my own body. What about him? No, that's—that's deadmau5. Well, he's a man, isn't he?! I wish you would leave me alone. — This is scary. You can't just—back up like that— This is too much light. It's not “too much” It is “too much” So that's it? … (Cont'd) That's it? Oh, I know this one. This one's so good What's this one? “The Liight Bringers” Are you sure that was it? Something like that. No. Something like that. NO. Ugh. I hate this. I hate him. I hate this. You always say that. I always hate it. That's not true. Look. I'm not looking. [she walks away] So that's it?! The Cosmic Owl soars in overhead; He is old, he is wise, and now—he is tired. HE?! I thought it was a ‘she' This is the other sides THE OTHER SIDE? [EDC .5] OH. Fuck. This is going to take forever to explain. Yeah. Where's Pasquale? Where isn't Pasquale? Touche. I felt about a hundred feet tall standing next to Pasquale Rotella, and though I would never admit or mentioned it aflojdfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff There he is. —and though I never would admit or mention it aloud, I liked that he was short, overall—as it made him seem less intimidating; I was, after all, rather morbidly afraid of him, as I was of anything at all, for that matter—anything that could or did have the power to make or break me. And he did. I found him. Where was he? Aha. What? I mean, it's a place, but it doesn't have a name, really. Oh really? What place is that? If I knew, I'd tell you. Tell me anyway. No, let him. Where have you been? Again, an outstanding diecotomy; If I could say the words to weave the space and time between us, Then would have, or even, Rather smittenly, I'd sing them With the Melodies I'm making (Like excuses for the work that I'm not doing) Or the worlds I'm still not moving with the winds beneath my wings— The wind beneath my wings. What the fuck is this? I don't know. In the end, we are nowhere Sleepless and still and tight Maybe we shouldn't fall asleep Saving what was left behind Standing outside the chalk outline Beside ourselves in time The only thing I want, is the last thing I need Awake and sleepless as stars shine What the fuck is that? You know what?! Stop asking me! WHATTHEFUCK IS THAT? I STILL DON'T KNOW. Let me see. It's a— Let me see! It's a planet. No… It's a planet, and I'm telling you it's a planet, and it's orbiting a star that's bigger than ours. That's a lot of speculation. That's a good eye— It was annoying but it unwelcome how often I had to stop and write, I knew by now if I didn't write what was in my head right then, it might take such a long time to come back around, even if it was good, that by the time it did, it would be out of context. There was nothing I could do to really save myself, or stop myself—and so I let it happen, and while most people were stopping to text, I was in a way, talking to myself—or even, my highest self. It was too late to find anything good to eat until the next morning, but my appetite had been a ravenous and unstoppable force, swapping out hat should have been a healthy amount of sex with a questionable amount of food. Lest not I forget How deep in love I would be, or How deep in love I was, once, Or will be, once I depart this In the wake of wonder, Dreaming, Slipping not into a silence— There I was, at the end of it, Remembering; Never had I once thought What was just a long lost song Becomes none, Or all of my cut cloth Fuck this nonsense. It's not—nonsense. It's a lot of nonsense. It's definitely a lot of something. — Don't shapeshift into my cat anymore— —don't tell me what to do. Don't do that. It's gross! How is it “gross” It's—my cat! I love cats. Stay away from my cat. DON'T TOUCH THAT CAT. is that a euphemism? NO—just— Lol. It is not possible that meowingtons is still alive. I mean, it's possible, just not probable. — Damn! Fuxk! This is a long ass story! So tell it then. I mean—how?! What is that thing, even?! Ku//Ka Well, that's it. What. I quit. You can't quit. I most certainly can quit. — You're going to risk your entire career on this thesis, My entire career is this thesis. Listen to me. You know I valbue your opinion. Well, then listen— —but I value your scientific contributions more. Just trust me. I don't trust you. Then you don't trust yourself. [she leaves the professor in a hollow silence; he lights a cigarette] I hate that she does that. — We probably shouldn't be using this equipment, guys. What?! Why not?! I don't care. Its—really old. 10 26 I don't care. What the Fuxk is this I think they're coordinates. To fuckin—where?! — WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Nobody quite knows. You're so clever. You're an idiot! I'm not an idiot. I'm a doctor. You're a fucking idiot. I'm Dr. Idiot. Your entire career It's a job. It's your career It's a profession. But, professor Zimmerman Doctor, Zimmerman, now, technically. You're an idiot. I'm running out of synonyms. I had tenure. — 9h my God, just PLEASE stop writing! But if ibstop writint l, you dont exist. Qcrually, i exist either way. Not 5o me. Ita a conceprtional universe. It you can think of it, it exists somewhere! Oh, damn. Yeah. Like damn damn. And the more you write rigut now, the worse it gets For me? For me! The Evers, Who What When Where Why and How. WOW. I know! I just now mafe that connection. These guys are my favorites. Who are they? Cut to: A young, brown skinned girl points to the top of a bunch of pinnaples, and shouts, My brothers! Her mother, pulls her in another direction, explaining sweetly and softly, No silly girl, those are pinapples! She picks up the girl, who latches on around the womans neck and sets ger head down over her sjoulder, staring at tge pinapples as she is carried away. She stares longingly. __ Sit down. Is there any Chinese left? A fortune cookie. Ah, that's good. I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back Ibto the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex Cinematic Adventures With The Insimniacs Lol ew. *The Insomniacs DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! —YES—and no! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale?” I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella— Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you're shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks red hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's la

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj chinese home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating sun stone planet mcdonald touch alien traveling ugly poetry shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters dreaming blow heck i am eminem knock plot warm persona multiverse salt lake city idiots mercury guided arsenal shut void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm fix puzzle surface flashback ut fin bingo whitney houston wishes californians salad cont fucking aha cc arrives mm other side ss ned technically blu pie assist morty jack black int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god zimmerman unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying ketamine dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol peculiar s p ruff mmm slipping ita pretender untitled deadmau5 persephone posing pringle fuckin touche humble pie collapsed pasquale evers dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit black parade sighs uhh right right sunn coughs yarg caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled i am god greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches yo ho ho friar tuck outfitted rsvping owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat pasquale rotella mazunte allison wonderland who what when where why

Cinematic Adventures, Vol I.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2022 26:28

DIPLO/THOMAS YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?! SUPACREE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS. DIPLO/THOMAS MAYBE TO YOU! SUPACREE I AM YOU!!' DIPLO Reveals The Seer's Stone. Oh, SHIT, Dude. Where'd you get that?! What's this story. No, don't go in there. Oh, look, a story— I told you this was going to be a long night. I was knocking back preworkout at 8 PM exactly, far out of sight from Travis Apple but not entirely out of mind, it was a personal feat to walk into the gym anymore, let alone by his desk—my spirit seemed to have other ideas at an occupation than I myself had formerly thought, but I was at clever best being dissociative now as I was ever, something springing from within me to be let loose, and though it could be, I thought my best to tame it. Professor Zimmerman It's you again… It's always me. So it is. I found something peculiar in a playback of last night's stream of the observatory— (But) How peculiar? Peculiar enough that I thought you might actually take interest. Touché. — I am dead. Oh fuck—he's dead too?! How'd he die? Let me guess—a drag race. Good guess, but no. Was it murder? It's always murder. Now, now, what's this? Don't touch it? What is it? —touch it and see. Ewhe. That's what I thought. Ketamine. Ketamine? Ketamine? Damn; are those two still doing drugs? They're alwYs doing drugs. That's semi-believable. Anyway. Was it a heart attack? Bingo! This is a heart attack! GODDAMMIT, YOU TWO—KNOCK IT OFF. Sorry— —sorry, mom. PROFESSOR ZIMMERMAN is looking through a telescope. Professor Zimmerman! What? What do you want? —my name in the history books; particularly and more specifically for discovering a previously unknown planet and it's inhabitant species. Fair. I meant— —professor Zimmerman— What do you want, from me? It's not entirely unrelated, I promise. Don't make promises you can't keep. Why would I do that? I don't know why women do what they do. That's sexist. It's honest. —no, to just—assume that I'm a woman. [an awkward silence; professor Zimmerman looks up from his studies to examine the short, rather stout, and particularly androgynous student before him] Oh, uh— [beat] I'm a woman. [in relief] Oh! —It's okay. Still, [disgruntled sigh] —it was sexist. Ugh! Anyway— 1.00 mile 10:17 Deadmau5, album title goes here I felt horrible for Brandon, who was eagerly giving his all—but by now physical attraction meant far more than too much to me, my sex drive climbing seemingly by the minute, and my own physique shrinking down into an admirable average, if not above average, by American standards—excluding of course, the Californians, by which standard I was still morbidly obsese as ever, and might as well just pair up with the likes of Brandon, who may have been equally gifted, were it not for his massive weight—then, it was also a selection of genetic particularities that my drive seemed to be fed by—and between the overall unremarkable appearance, it was the bad housekeeping and general disability to take the four otherwise well-mannered children into habitable people—not entirely his fault, and my own arrogance, failing to mention that by now I had become estranged from my own offspring, giving myself a self-entitled badge of abandonment. So I might as well be nothing. If not a mother, I thoughttrapped to myself—but I didn't think much of myself, besides being In some sort of hell, encapsulated and in my own body. What about him? No, that's—that's deadmau5. Well, he's a man, isn't he?! I wish you would leave me alone. — This is scary. You can't just—back up like that— This is too much light. It's not “too much” It is “too much” So that's it? … (Cont'd) That's it? Oh, I know this one. This one's so good What's this one? “The Liight Bringers” Are you sure that was it? Something like that. No. Something like that. NO. Ugh. I hate this. I hate him. I hate this. You always say that. I always hate it. That's not true. Look. I'm not looking. [she walks away] So that's it?! The Cosmic Owl soars in overhead; He is old, he is wise, and now—he is tired. HE?! I thought it was a ‘she' This is the other sides THE OTHER SIDE? [EDC .5] OH. Fuck. This is going to take forever to explain. Yeah. Where's Pasquale? Where isn't Pasquale? Touche. I felt about a hundred feet tall standing next to Pasquale Rotella, and though I would never admit or mentioned it aflojdfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff There he is. —and though I never would admit or mention it aloud, I liked that he was short, overall—as it made him seem less intimidating; I was, after all, rather morbidly afraid of him, as I was of anything at all, for that matter—anything that could or did have the power to make or break me. And he did. I found him. Where was he? Aha. What? I mean, it's a place, but it doesn't have a name, really. Oh really? What place is that? If I knew, I'd tell you. Tell me anyway. No, let him. Where have you been? Again, an outstanding diecotomy; If I could say the words to weave the space and time between us, Then would have, or even, Rather smittenly, I'd sing them With the Melodies I'm making (Like excuses for the work that I'm not doing) Or the worlds I'm still not moving with the winds beneath my wings— The wind beneath my wings. What the fuck is this? I don't know. In the end, we are nowhere Sleepless and still and tight Maybe we shouldn't fall asleep Saving what was left behind Standing outside the chalk outline Beside ourselves in time The only thing I want, is the last thing I need Awake and sleepless as stars shine What the fuck is that? You know what?! Stop asking me! WHATTHEFUCK IS THAT? I STILL DON'T KNOW. Let me see. It's a— Let me see! It's a planet. No… It's a planet, and I'm telling you it's a planet, and it's orbiting a star that's bigger than ours. That's a lot of speculation. That's a good eye— It was annoying but it unwelcome how often I had to stop and write, I knew by now if I didn't write what was in my head right then, it might take such a long time to come back around, even if it was good, that by the time it did, it would be out of context. There was nothing I could do to really save myself, or stop myself—and so I let it happen, and while most people were stopping to text, I was in a way, talking to myself—or even, my highest self. It was too late to find anything good to eat until the next morning, but my appetite had been a ravenous and unstoppable force, swapping out hat should have been a healthy amount of sex with a questionable amount of food. Lest not I forget How deep in love I would be, or How deep in love I was, once, Or will be, once I depart this In the wake of wonder, Dreaming, Slipping not into a silence— There I was, at the end of it, Remembering; Never had I once thought What was just a long lost song Becomes none, Or all of my cut cloth Fuck this nonsense. It's not—nonsense. It's a lot of nonsense. It's definitely a lot of something. — Don't shapeshift into my cat anymore— —don't tell me what to do. Don't do that. It's gross! How is it “gross” It's—my cat! I love cats. Stay away from my cat. DON'T TOUCH THAT CAT. is that a euphemism? NO—just— Lol. It is not possible that meowingtons is still alive. I mean, it's possible, just not probable. — Damn! Fuxk! This is a long ass story! So tell it then. I mean—how?! What is that thing, even?! Ku//Ka Well, that's it. What. I quit. You can't quit. I most certainly can quit. — You're going to risk your entire career on this thesis, My entire career is this thesis. Listen to me. You know I valbue your opinion. Well, then listen— —but I value your scientific contributions more. Just trust me. I don't trust you. Then you don't trust yourself. [she leaves the professor in a hollow silence; he lights a cigarette] I hate that she does that. — We probably shouldn't be using this equipment, guys. What?! Why not?! I don't care. Its—really old. 10 26 I don't care. What the Fuxk is this I think they're coordinates. To fuckin—where?! — WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Nobody quite knows. You're so clever. You're an idiot! I'm not an idiot. I'm a doctor. You're a fucking idiot. I'm Dr. Idiot. Your entire career It's a job. It's your career It's a profession. But, professor Zimmerman Doctor, Zimmerman, now, technically. You're an idiot. I'm running out of synonyms. I had tenure. — 9h my God, just PLEASE stop writing! But if ibstop writint l, you dont exist. Qcrually, i exist either way. Not 5o me. Ita a conceprtional universe. It you can think of it, it exists somewhere! Oh, damn. Yeah. Like damn damn. And the more you write rigut now, the worse it gets For me? For me! The Evers, Who What When Where Why and How. WOW. I know! I just now mafe that connection. These guys are my favorites. Who are they? Cut to: A young, brown skinned girl points to the top of a bunch of pinnaples, and shouts, My brothers! Her mother, pulls her in another direction, explaining sweetly and softly, No silly girl, those are pinapples! She picks up the girl, who latches on around the womans neck and sets ger head down over her sjoulder, staring at tge pinapples as she is carried away. She stares longingly. __ Sit down. Is there any Chinese left? A fortune cookie. Ah, that's good. I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back Ibto the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex Cinematic Adventures With The Insimniacs Lol ew. *The Insomniacs DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! —YES—and no! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale?” I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella— Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you're shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks red hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's la

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj chinese home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating adventures sun stone planet mcdonald touch alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters dreaming blow heck i am eminem knock plot warm persona multiverse salt lake city idiots mercury guided arsenal shut void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm fix puzzle surface flashback ut fin bingo whitney houston wishes californians salad cont fucking aha cc arrives mm other side ss ned technically blu pie assist morty jack black int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god zimmerman cinematic unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying ketamine dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol peculiar s p ruff mmm slipping ita pretender untitled deadmau5 persephone posing pringle fuckin touche humble pie collapsed pasquale evers dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit black parade sighs uhh right right sunn coughs yarg caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled i am god greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches yo ho ho friar tuck outfitted rsvping owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat pasquale rotella mazunte allison wonderland who what when where why

Gerald's World- “Cinematic Adventures”

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2022 26:28

DIPLO/THOMAS YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?! SUPACREE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS. DIPLO/THOMAS MAYBE TO YOU! SUPACREE I AM YOU!!' DIPLO Reveals The Seer's Stone. Oh, SHIT, Dude. Where'd you get that?! What's this story. No, don't go in there. Oh, look, a story— I told you this was going to be a long night. I was knocking back preworkout at 8 PM exactly, far out of sight from Travis Apple but not entirely out of mind, it was a personal feat to walk into the gym anymore, let alone by his desk—my spirit seemed to have other ideas at an occupation than I myself had formerly thought, but I was at clever best being dissociative now as I was ever, something springing from within me to be let loose, and though it could be, I thought my best to tame it. Professor Zimmerman It's you again… It's always me. So it is. I found something peculiar in a playback of last night's stream of the observatory— (But) How peculiar? Peculiar enough that I thought you might actually take interest. Touché. — I am dead. Oh fuck—he's dead too?! How'd he die? Let me guess—a drag race. Good guess, but no. Was it murder? It's always murder. Now, now, what's this? Don't touch it? What is it? —touch it and see. Ewhe. That's what I thought. Ketamine. Ketamine? Ketamine? Damn; are those two still doing drugs? They're alwYs doing drugs. That's semi-believable. Anyway. Was it a heart attack? Bingo! This is a heart attack! GODDAMMIT, YOU TWO—KNOCK IT OFF. Sorry— —sorry, mom. PROFESSOR ZIMMERMAN is looking through a telescope. Professor Zimmerman! What? What do you want? —my name in the history books; particularly and more specifically for discovering a previously unknown planet and it's inhabitant species. Fair. I meant— —professor Zimmerman— What do you want, from me? It's not entirely unrelated, I promise. Don't make promises you can't keep. Why would I do that? I don't know why women do what they do. That's sexist. It's honest. —no, to just—assume that I'm a woman. [an awkward silence; professor Zimmerman looks up from his studies to examine the short, rather stout, and particularly androgynous student before him] Oh, uh— [beat] I'm a woman. [in relief] Oh! —It's okay. Still, [disgruntled sigh] —it was sexist. Ugh! Anyway— 1.00 mile 10:17 Deadmau5, album title goes here I felt horrible for Brandon, who was eagerly giving his all—but by now physical attraction meant far more than too much to me, my sex drive climbing seemingly by the minute, and my own physique shrinking down into an admirable average, if not above average, by American standards—excluding of course, the Californians, by which standard I was still morbidly obsese as ever, and might as well just pair up with the likes of Brandon, who may have been equally gifted, were it not for his massive weight—then, it was also a selection of genetic particularities that my drive seemed to be fed by—and between the overall unremarkable appearance, it was the bad housekeeping and general disability to take the four otherwise well-mannered children into habitable people—not entirely his fault, and my own arrogance, failing to mention that by now I had become estranged from my own offspring, giving myself a self-entitled badge of abandonment. So I might as well be nothing. If not a mother, I thoughttrapped to myself—but I didn't think much of myself, besides being In some sort of hell, encapsulated and in my own body. What about him? No, that's—that's deadmau5. Well, he's a man, isn't he?! I wish you would leave me alone. — This is scary. You can't just—back up like that— This is too much light. It's not “too much” It is “too much” So that's it? … (Cont'd) That's it? Oh, I know this one. This one's so good What's this one? “The Liight Bringers” Are you sure that was it? Something like that. No. Something like that. NO. Ugh. I hate this. I hate him. I hate this. You always say that. I always hate it. That's not true. Look. I'm not looking. [she walks away] So that's it?! The Cosmic Owl soars in overhead; He is old, he is wise, and now—he is tired. HE?! I thought it was a ‘she' This is the other sides THE OTHER SIDE? [EDC .5] OH. Fuck. This is going to take forever to explain. Yeah. Where's Pasquale? Where isn't Pasquale? Touche. I felt about a hundred feet tall standing next to Pasquale Rotella, and though I would never admit or mentioned it aflojdfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff There he is. —and though I never would admit or mention it aloud, I liked that he was short, overall—as it made him seem less intimidating; I was, after all, rather morbidly afraid of him, as I was of anything at all, for that matter—anything that could or did have the power to make or break me. And he did. I found him. Where was he? Aha. What? I mean, it's a place, but it doesn't have a name, really. Oh really? What place is that? If I knew, I'd tell you. Tell me anyway. No, let him. Where have you been? Again, an outstanding diecotomy; If I could say the words to weave the space and time between us, Then would have, or even, Rather smittenly, I'd sing them With the Melodies I'm making (Like excuses for the work that I'm not doing) Or the worlds I'm still not moving with the winds beneath my wings— The wind beneath my wings. What the fuck is this? I don't know. In the end, we are nowhere Sleepless and still and tight Maybe we shouldn't fall asleep Saving what was left behind Standing outside the chalk outline Beside ourselves in time The only thing I want, is the last thing I need Awake and sleepless as stars shine What the fuck is that? You know what?! Stop asking me! WHATTHEFUCK IS THAT? I STILL DON'T KNOW. Let me see. It's a— Let me see! It's a planet. No… It's a planet, and I'm telling you it's a planet, and it's orbiting a star that's bigger than ours. That's a lot of speculation. That's a good eye— It was annoying but it unwelcome how often I had to stop and write, I knew by now if I didn't write what was in my head right then, it might take such a long time to come back around, even if it was good, that by the time it did, it would be out of context. There was nothing I could do to really save myself, or stop myself—and so I let it happen, and while most people were stopping to text, I was in a way, talking to myself—or even, my highest self. It was too late to find anything good to eat until the next morning, but my appetite had been a ravenous and unstoppable force, swapping out hat should have been a healthy amount of sex with a questionable amount of food. Lest not I forget How deep in love I would be, or How deep in love I was, once, Or will be, once I depart this In the wake of wonder, Dreaming, Slipping not into a silence— There I was, at the end of it, Remembering; Never had I once thought What was just a long lost song Becomes none, Or all of my cut cloth Fuck this nonsense. It's not—nonsense. It's a lot of nonsense. It's definitely a lot of something. — Don't shapeshift into my cat anymore— —don't tell me what to do. Don't do that. It's gross! How is it “gross” It's—my cat! I love cats. Stay away from my cat. DON'T TOUCH THAT CAT. is that a euphemism? NO—just— Lol. It is not possible that meowingtons is still alive. I mean, it's possible, just not probable. — Damn! Fuxk! This is a long ass story! So tell it then. I mean—how?! What is that thing, even?! Ku//Ka Well, that's it. What. I quit. You can't quit. I most certainly can quit. — You're going to risk your entire career on this thesis, My entire career is this thesis. Listen to me. You know I valbue your opinion. Well, then listen— —but I value your scientific contributions more. Just trust me. I don't trust you. Then you don't trust yourself. [she leaves the professor in a hollow silence; he lights a cigarette] I hate that she does that. — We probably shouldn't be using this equipment, guys. What?! Why not?! I don't care. Its—really old. 10 26 I don't care. What the Fuxk is this I think they're coordinates. To fuckin—where?! — WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Nobody quite knows. You're so clever. You're an idiot! I'm not an idiot. I'm a doctor. You're a fucking idiot. I'm Dr. Idiot. Your entire career It's a job. It's your career It's a profession. But, professor Zimmerman Doctor, Zimmerman, now, technically. You're an idiot. I'm running out of synonyms. I had tenure. — 9h my God, just PLEASE stop writing! But if ibstop writint l, you dont exist. Qcrually, i exist either way. Not 5o me. Ita a conceprtional universe. It you can think of it, it exists somewhere! Oh, damn. Yeah. Like damn damn. And the more you write rigut now, the worse it gets For me? For me! The Evers, Who What When Where Why and How. WOW. I know! I just now mafe that connection. These guys are my favorites. Who are they? Cut to: A young, brown skinned girl points to the top of a bunch of pinnaples, and shouts, My brothers! Her mother, pulls her in another direction, explaining sweetly and softly, No silly girl, those are pinapples! She picks up the girl, who latches on around the womans neck and sets ger head down over her sjoulder, staring at tge pinapples as she is carried away. She stares longingly. __ Sit down. Is there any Chinese left? A fortune cookie. Ah, that's good. I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back Ibto the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex Cinematic Adventures With The Insimniacs Lol ew. *The Insomniacs DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! —YES—and no! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale?” I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella— Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you're shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks red hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's la

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj chinese home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating adventures sun stone planet mcdonald touch alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters dreaming blow heck i am eminem knock plot warm persona multiverse salt lake city idiots mercury guided arsenal shut void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm fix puzzle surface flashback ut fin bingo whitney houston wishes californians salad cont fucking aha cc arrives mm other side ss ned technically blu pie assist morty jack black int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god zimmerman cinematic unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying ketamine dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol peculiar s p ruff mmm slipping ita pretender untitled deadmau5 persephone posing pringle fuckin touche humble pie collapsed pasquale evers dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit black parade sighs uhh right right sunn coughs yarg caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled i am god greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches yo ho ho friar tuck outfitted rsvping owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat pasquale rotella mazunte allison wonderland who what when where why

Cinematic Adventures Volume I - {Enter The Multiverse}

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 15, 2022 26:28

DIPLO/THOMAS YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?! SUPACREE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS. DIPLO/THOMAS MAYBE TO YOU! SUPACREE I AM YOU!!' DIPLO Reveals The Seer's Stone. Oh, SHIT, Dude. Where'd you get that?! What's this story. No, don't go in there. Oh, look, a story— I told you this was going to be a long night. I was knocking back preworkout at 8 PM exactly, far out of sight from Travis Apple but not entirely out of mind, it was a personal feat to walk into the gym anymore, let alone by his desk—my spirit seemed to have other ideas at an occupation than I myself had formerly thought, but I was at clever best being dissociative now as I was ever, something springing from within me to be let loose, and though it could be, I thought my best to tame it. Professor Zimmerman It's you again… It's always me. So it is. I found something peculiar in a playback of last night's stream of the observatory— (But) How peculiar? Peculiar enough that I thought you might actually take interest. Touché. — I am dead. Oh fuck—he's dead too?! How'd he die? Let me guess—a drag race. Good guess, but no. Was it murder? It's always murder. Now, now, what's this? Don't touch it? What is it? —touch it and see. Ewhe. That's what I thought. Ketamine. Ketamine? Ketamine? Damn; are those two still doing drugs? They're alwYs doing drugs. That's semi-believable. Anyway. Was it a heart attack? Bingo! This is a heart attack! GODDAMMIT, YOU TWO—KNOCK IT OFF. Sorry— —sorry, mom. PROFESSOR ZIMMERMAN is looking through a telescope. Professor Zimmerman! What? What do you want? —my name in the history books; particularly and more specifically for discovering a previously unknown planet and it's inhabitant species. Fair. I meant— —professor Zimmerman— What do you want, from me? It's not entirely unrelated, I promise. Don't make promises you can't keep. Why would I do that? I don't know why women do what they do. That's sexist. It's honest. —no, to just—assume that I'm a woman. [an awkward silence; professor Zimmerman looks up from his studies to examine the short, rather stout, and particularly androgynous student before him] Oh, uh— [beat] I'm a woman. [in relief] Oh! —It's okay. Still, [disgruntled sigh] —it was sexist. Ugh! Anyway— 1.00 mile 10:17 Deadmau5, album title goes here I felt horrible for Brandon, who was eagerly giving his all—but by now physical attraction meant far more than too much to me, my sex drive climbing seemingly by the minute, and my own physique shrinking down into an admirable average, if not above average, by American standards—excluding of course, the Californians, by which standard I was still morbidly obsese as ever, and might as well just pair up with the likes of Brandon, who may have been equally gifted, were it not for his massive weight—then, it was also a selection of genetic particularities that my drive seemed to be fed by—and between the overall unremarkable appearance, it was the bad housekeeping and general disability to take the four otherwise well-mannered children into habitable people—not entirely his fault, and my own arrogance, failing to mention that by now I had become estranged from my own offspring, giving myself a self-entitled badge of abandonment. So I might as well be nothing. If not a mother, I thoughttrapped to myself—but I didn't think much of myself, besides being In some sort of hell, encapsulated and in my own body. What about him? No, that's—that's deadmau5. Well, he's a man, isn't he?! I wish you would leave me alone. — This is scary. You can't just—back up like that— This is too much light. It's not “too much” It is “too much” So that's it? … (Cont'd) That's it? Oh, I know this one. This one's so good What's this one? “The Liight Bringers” Are you sure that was it? Something like that. No. Something like that. NO. Ugh. I hate this. I hate him. I hate this. You always say that. I always hate it. That's not true. Look. I'm not looking. [she walks away] So that's it?! The Cosmic Owl soars in overhead; He is old, he is wise, and now—he is tired. HE?! I thought it was a ‘she' This is the other sides THE OTHER SIDE? [EDC .5] OH. Fuck. This is going to take forever to explain. Yeah. Where's Pasquale? Where isn't Pasquale? Touche. I felt about a hundred feet tall standing next to Pasquale Rotella, and though I would never admit or mentioned it aflojdfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff There he is. —and though I never would admit or mention it aloud, I liked that he was short, overall—as it made him seem less intimidating; I was, after all, rather morbidly afraid of him, as I was of anything at all, for that matter—anything that could or did have the power to make or break me. And he did. I found him. Where was he? Aha. What? I mean, it's a place, but it doesn't have a name, really. Oh really? What place is that? If I knew, I'd tell you. Tell me anyway. No, let him. Where have you been? Again, an outstanding diecotomy; If I could say the words to weave the space and time between us, Then would have, or even, Rather smittenly, I'd sing them With the Melodies I'm making (Like excuses for the work that I'm not doing) Or the worlds I'm still not moving with the winds beneath my wings— The wind beneath my wings. What the fuck is this? I don't know. In the end, we are nowhere Sleepless and still and tight Maybe we shouldn't fall asleep Saving what was left behind Standing outside the chalk outline Beside ourselves in time The only thing I want, is the last thing I need Awake and sleepless as stars shine What the fuck is that? You know what?! Stop asking me! WHATTHEFUCK IS THAT? I STILL DON'T KNOW. Let me see. It's a— Let me see! It's a planet. No… It's a planet, and I'm telling you it's a planet, and it's orbiting a star that's bigger than ours. That's a lot of speculation. That's a good eye— It was annoying but it unwelcome how often I had to stop and write, I knew by now if I didn't write what was in my head right then, it might take such a long time to come back around, even if it was good, that by the time it did, it would be out of context. There was nothing I could do to really save myself, or stop myself—and so I let it happen, and while most people were stopping to text, I was in a way, talking to myself—or even, my highest self. It was too late to find anything good to eat until the next morning, but my appetite had been a ravenous and unstoppable force, swapping out hat should have been a healthy amount of sex with a questionable amount of food. Lest not I forget How deep in love I would be, or How deep in love I was, once, Or will be, once I depart this In the wake of wonder, Dreaming, Slipping not into a silence— There I was, at the end of it, Remembering; Never had I once thought What was just a long lost song Becomes none, Or all of my cut cloth Fuck this nonsense. It's not—nonsense. It's a lot of nonsense. It's definitely a lot of something. — Don't shapeshift into my cat anymore— —don't tell me what to do. Don't do that. It's gross! How is it “gross” It's—my cat! I love cats. Stay away from my cat. DON'T TOUCH THAT CAT. is that a euphemism? NO—just— Lol. It is not possible that meowingtons is still alive. I mean, it's possible, just not probable. — Damn! Fuxk! This is a long ass story! So tell it then. I mean—how?! What is that thing, even?! Ku//Ka Well, that's it. What. I quit. You can't quit. I most certainly can quit. — You're going to risk your entire career on this thesis, My entire career is this thesis. Listen to me. You know I valbue your opinion. Well, then listen— —but I value your scientific contributions more. Just trust me. I don't trust you. Then you don't trust yourself. [she leaves the professor in a hollow silence; he lights a cigarette] I hate that she does that. — We probably shouldn't be using this equipment, guys. What?! Why not?! I don't care. Its—really old. 10 26 I don't care. What the Fuxk is this I think they're coordinates. To fuckin—where?! — WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Nobody quite knows. You're so clever. You're an idiot! I'm not an idiot. I'm a doctor. You're a fucking idiot. I'm Dr. Idiot. Your entire career It's a job. It's your career It's a profession. But, professor Zimmerman Doctor, Zimmerman, now, technically. You're an idiot. I'm running out of synonyms. I had tenure. — 9h my God, just PLEASE stop writing! But if ibstop writint l, you dont exist. Qcrually, i exist either way. Not 5o me. Ita a conceprtional universe. It you can think of it, it exists somewhere! Oh, damn. Yeah. Like damn damn. And the more you write rigut now, the worse it gets For me? For me! The Evers, Who What When Where Why and How. WOW. I know! I just now mafe that connection. These guys are my favorites. Who are they? Cut to: A young, brown skinned girl points to the top of a bunch of pinnaples, and shouts, My brothers! Her mother, pulls her in another direction, explaining sweetly and softly, No silly girl, those are pinapples! She picks up the girl, who latches on around the womans neck and sets ger head down over her sjoulder, staring at tge pinapples as she is carried away. She stares longingly. __ Sit down. Is there any Chinese left? A fortune cookie. Ah, that's good. I walked in locked in; Pistol cocked, and pointed towards my head You'll only want me when you have no options left, Or when I'm dead “It's clever” They all said An ambitious endevour End this life, and be devoured By the miester and the misters of the hour How about now? (Or–) How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Or, How about now, or How about now, or How about now? Or, How about Now, or How about Now, or How about Now? Now or Never I said “That's clever” or “How about Now” What do you want from me? I lie for a living; A literal drama queen, don't eat turkey on thanksgiving I'm the worthless word for Surface level thinking on this Earth, or Picking hearses with my cursor, Mercenary, Mercury, or Just a Mercer–But not a Mercedes; I'm paid, but I hate paying; Made the game, but I hate playing I remember making hate to be created Just for entertainment– A belated invitation, Now i'll face it, Back to Basic– But she's laced with Masonry; A tastemaker, maybe But she just wants a family, Whatever that means Wow. How about now? Fuck this. Homelssness. I woul rather kill myself than stay alive I'd rather die than fight Don't want to write this: I'm just a diamond pressurized And i might never see the light I'll never see the lght I see the light There's no honor in suicide But i've devided my mind a million times And now like dynamite in a mine; Collapsed, collided, ad defined by All divine; You'll never see me shine, But deep inside I'd blind you; Guided by the tide, I've come to find you Down, I dive I'm not alive, you know I'm always misaligned But that's beside the point Another suicide attempt Is in the midst– But just what is it; More than just one, is it? Rather die than listen to Skrillex Or take pills just to chill with it For real? this shit again? It wasn't real, all to begin with It's only mental illness cause i'm penniless Now i've got so much to deal with Another wound to heal, Another deal, perhaps I'll make another million in a year, If i'm still here– And i”m still here– And i'm still– Who are you now, and— Who were you then; And— Which part of this, would you want— Or did want, Or just wanted Pondered before in a vision, Outfitted in hooded drapery, The heaviest fabric; A rosary hung from his neck But can't recall the connection In this ressurection I can recall him, But never remember The calling Let's call him Oh, fuck man. ‘Friar Tuck' THAT WAS IT. The high priest of asencion, Was burned in her memory— Not as a friend, But a friend of the enemy; Who she loved and protected, Despite all the envy, She felt for Persephone— Just an unjust figure, A fictional figment of imagination But— Who was I then And who am I now; And what part of him, Would I want, if I wanted Or wished for, Or honored A friend, long forgotten Not a high priest, But a Friar That was it— But before, As Mary, Joseph, and Jesus On the front lines of the war, Not to be started, but ended, as in Preparation, a blood sacrifice I've prepared In a premonition that I'd Give my whole heart again Honest, And honestly slain in the eyes, Of a man I remember, But didn't, when it mattered— Then did, right in front of him Who are we now, and— Who were we then; Let's find out, As time's running out again “Yes, I know him.” She sighed, eyeing from over the rims of the glasses she purchased only earlier to assure she had hidden the tears that she cried for Him— Neither a friend or an enemy, rather The ghost of a shadow she hadn't yet met with again, since he entered her presence Shifting into a tent Now, ripped from the pages of a book she cherished, A page which she promised to never diminish or tarnish would go up in ashes, As totems would fall, Wishes would become granted The PyRAmiD Spell (For Pasquale Rotella) gave gave the man honorary doctorate, and then reneged it, nigga thought he was actually bigger than big sister sick spitter, rip n dip listening to anything but Skrillex that shit is for kids ‘Check it' I hate midi gimmie a synth, something gritty, I'll make it pretty Come and try to get me, I been dead for centuries, Unsolved like a mystery This image don't mean shit to me, I sit to think, I wait to speak, I leak some information on the interwebs just to see how fast it comes back to me I'm actually a master “Untitled 07” It's like a 24/7 job, can't get no rest in, At best you're looking like a slob I kamikaze ‘em all, I am your mom, I will tell you what you are, to me By now, you should know, or see Just a name on my computer screen A friendly neighbor on Easy Street A wish, A lucid dream, A misalignment, so its seems So let me tell you what you are to me: Just make believe (Just make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream I'll tell you what I've seen, and what I see (and What I see) I dare to dream (I dare to dream) But please believe me, I'm as evil as can be Don't let my anything deceive you I'm a fleeting, bleeding Beaten bride to be No, don't believe me I'm the fire and gnashing teeth they preached to you May everything I've written one day reach you And beseech you, Just like you did to me Now let me tell you what I see; Just make believe (Just make believe) It may be evil (Make believe) Just make believe (Just make believe) A lucid dream When I wash up on the beach, From blazing fires of burning seas, Let me sing you all to sleep For every tear I often weep To dream of you A lucid dream Just fucking make believe; And I can make believe we fucked Just so I can get to sleep (Are you proud of me?) Hey. (Sarcastically) Oh, Come In. (Sighs heavily) I fucked up. I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. Don't copy me. I need help. No arguments there. Dude, I'm serious. __ So first of all oh God, now what– I'm not racist You're extremely racist Racist By Proxy I'm not Racist They do look alike. Check this out: WOAH. That's…not a coincidence. That's definitely not a coincidence. Fuck. This. Shit. Here, take this. So, you dropped this totem… Uh-huh. In the ocean. Yes I did. And that one Ooof. What about– That came off on the moped. How? When I came off the moped. So you admit it. SO! He only let me ride it cause he wanted to ride ME! Nice. Did you sing to him? Uh, I sang for him? What's the difference? Here's every song I've ever written about X.X Just kill yourself. Should I then? I mean, perHAPS. I mean, maaaayyyybeee. You know what? I do know. Fuckthisshit. Fuck it, then. I'm out. I quit. Go find SupaCree. This…is impossible. Nothing is impossible. Except for that. Oh. “Oh.” No, i'm serious. You look serious–I'm just saying. What is this? Don't touch that– What is it? It's– [a tiny explosion] –ugh. Volatile. What the fuck are you into? I told you. You said “music.” What is “Music” [very deep pondering] I hate you. We have to find her. You have to. What! You're not going to help us? I have other things to do. Like what, dude? Like what, broh. Feed My cat; Your cat died. Walk my dog– You don't have a dog. I'm getting one. Oh, Jesus Christ Don't get all religious on me, now, not after that. Not after what? Yeah, which thing? ___ Man. Get me out of here. [shrugs] I hate being stuck in your head. What is THIS. Uh. play dead. What's up with your dog. Ruff. Good boy. I'm a girl. Uhhh–good girl. Wait. Hm. Did that dog just– [???] Nevermind. I've been up for 6 days straight. Tour life, buddy. Ah-huh. Uhh. Can I take a shower in your– Take a sho–? [dog grumphs] Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. *Shapeshifts* Wow, that's cool. It's so stupid. I came in late to the office, so to speak; it had been an off day, after an off night, plagued by what I was sure to be some sort of demonic magic—I was moving slowly, off beat, and irritated—nevermind the lack of energy, as I moved about as steadily as I could—making arrangements for the next trials to come, as it seemed nearly impossible to move ahead, and yet—somehow, I had been given what seemed like one final chance to survive, or not. I had spent the first part of my day, somehow waking with a gust of light, and ready to take on the tasks at hand—then quickly wiped of anything holy in me by the outrageously disgusting hacking and howling of the seemingly-programmed man-or-something-alike, and into a manic-semi-conscious desperation to piece together what was left of my life—seemingly nothing, but somehow still pieced and patched together by music, the overriding theme being that I would be quickly booted out of any position unsuitable for me; and by now, I was just about unsuitable for everything, besides gym crawling and throwing together pieces of literature unlike any I had before seen, as I was, assuredly beginning to look in every direction for other writers which may have matched my style of the then-present day and age, and to my shagrin had found nearly nothing to gawk about, but at the very least had picked up some novels noteworthy in nature, as they had made me laugh, or somehow otherwise caught my attention. Now in my Arsenal, I had one novel, each respectively written by a woman, a white man, and a black man—every book I had otherwise been drawn to written by black women were, upon cracking to open, too-stereotypically black, or about being a black-girl in some kind of way I knew too much about and had absolutely no interest in reading. I had no idea what caused me to look into a world I had all but shut out of my mind—this someone and something had haunted me for months and even growing into years now, first affectionately, but now growing into an uneasy and painstaking, critical list for something deeper. I hated my ex husband for bringing me to this, and, as I looked at the clock at 5:55 exactly, nearly vomited in disgust at the sprawling obsession I would have to somehow quiet—as there really was no halting the plague of tragic recouping thoughts of Dillon Francis at random—now, daily, for quite some time, even as the automatic writing had nearly stopped entirely; I had become entrapped with daily reminders of things I had written, now welling up with spite and anger, that I had even allowed myself the obsession to begin with—especially after what had happened—or what had not happened—with Sonny, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Now; just left with a burning lust and motion sickness beyond my wildest control upon approaching the matter if it all, nonetheless with peaking curisosity, as he had walked in and out if my dreamscape like a picturesque bandit, even hijacking my own sexuality—now almost didn't want or dream of anything else, and with the un presidented amount of ‘decoys' life had thrown at me—Bruno, the bird speaking man from Belgium with the eyes that burned in striking similarity to Dillon's—and then again with Gabriel, the man who had hired me to DJ in the small cerveceria in Mazunte, who could have been his brother'; a dazzlingly handsome, if not perfect near-replica of Dillon Francis, who, by that point, i couldn't even bear to look at, let alone conjure the spark or touch of romance—even after multiple suggestions that he and his girlfriend had just broken up. I never allowed myself for a moment to believe or think that Dillon—or any of the men I fawned after, for that matter, in reality, a very short list—would ever be settled with the idea of me as a perfect fit; no, I sat in the certain reality that I was cursed, living in the opposite exact of the Allison Wonderland archetype—a woman who I theorized may have been Skrillexed and Dillon Francis'd herself—it seemed to be a pattern of hypnotism I was finally wrapping my head around, and even had learned to respect if not envy: I wanted the codes to create my own version of the worlds I had been spun into—and while I would more than likely never be a light skinned, light eyed beauty Queen; perhaps my own kingdom was meant to be of wit and wealth, rather than vanity. Still, headed back Ibto the desert, I found myself scrolling through open guest lists, excited to take my longtime best friend turned literal goddess club crawling, looking for industry and network connections, if not at least a sex partner that could keep up with my needs, now furiously tearing at me from the inside out—as I scrolled, RSVPing for any acts I hadn't yet seen but had heard of, I found myself trailing off in thought and perhaps looking for something I hadn't realized I would stray into; I knew specifically that Dillon had a residency at the Wynn, and —though I also knew I wouldn't be caught dead at this point anywhere I knew he was, or especially stupid enough to pay for it. Now it was torturous, knowing how regretfully physical my attraction had become—understsnding from my interactions with the aforementioned that I was drawn to Dillon for his features—his eyes, his hair, and everything in his silhouette from his jawline, to his lips and brow drove me absolutely wild—however, I had learned about my very fragile psychiatry from my obsession with Skrillex, or with Sonny—neither of which I wished existed, adding Dillon Francis to the list of fictional characters I pushed further into my imaginary incineration box, where I put everything that not need affect my actual emotions or actions; Dillon Francis, a wealthy and talented, very handsome man—could not exist. I wished more than ever that I wasn't dark skinned, that I wasn't heavy set, that I didn't come with a flaming dumpster full of trauma and baggage that no man wanted or needed, but especially not the wealthy and handsome individuals I had spent very much of the last passing years writing about and fantasizing over, finding it respectably impossible to even have flings or sexual experiences without either of the two most rampant figures of my infatuation crossing into my mind and shrouding me with guilt and shame—and yet, here they were, so out of my element that I continued to agree with myself and the universe that it would be dillusinal to think myself a match for anyone so high-achieving. Nothing I could do or say could shake the fact that despite all my efforts to break through, all it had seemed to do was create a broken down individual, ready for enslavement in the working class just to stay housed—my music aspirations both hanging above me, and somehow fading away into the distance behind me. I hated myself. But more importantly, hated Skrillex and Dillon Francis for living the life I somehow thought I wanted and needed. What is the definitive definition of the word Skrillex? Skrillex: noun...right? What, you don't know? I know! It's...a noun...right? Right. Right--- ---Right! Could also be, an adjective, I guess--i? You guess?! You have to know. I mean--- Coughs ain't shit Skrillex ain't *coughs Satan ain't shit Bitch suck a dick Slit ya wrists On ya pissed off Little ass nigga. A loud, abrupt cough disrupted my focus; I was 5-sets-of-8 out of 8 and just feeling my heart begin to pump, as sweat poured from my temples and my sunglasses steamed “Man, fuck Coughs.” Whoever she was, even if it was just one of my infinite inward selves, this was some satanic shit. Now I hated Skrillex—not that it mattered, and as he was a living legend in computer animated music, or whatever voodoo shit he was responsible for that had sparked an entire uprising of revolutionary artists and producers spanning a generation or more—and I was damned-if-I-did, and damned-if-I-didn't love, like, or listen to him; all of which I did, besides the latter higher love by Whitney Houston, God rest her soul, blared over the gym's loud speakers, as I, more than likely looking just as superficially occupied as any basic broad, scrolling away on Instagram or texting her replicas, jotted down the rest of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in my mind's eye, as the coughing, which had followed me everywhere for nearly four years, beckoned to something—searching for purpose if not means to an end. He had Kayla Lauren, a plastic, streamlined representation of the all-American-deem girl, not to mention a “collective” of other broad women of sorts, probably all inwardly clawing just as I had at one time, for a piece of Sonny's heart, or whatever was left of it, after what I could have only assumed to have been a blood sacrifice of sorts, for his placement atop such a steep pyramid of success. What if, every time someone coughed—someone took a picture? I thought about the millions of hacking imbeciles and inbred, backwards savages who had crowded my ears with the putrid sounds of Satan's show choir, a coughing and excessive hellish representation of how the human race had gone awry; If I had been famous, or on my way to it, I would be burgeoned with photographs, as I had been in Mexico without knowing why or how—people sometimes slinking behind their phones as if to secretly capture a candid photo, I myself, pretending not to be aware of it. Cough cough. Ugh. If every cough represented a fan or something of the sorts taking a picture, I almost reveled in the thought—I would have rather had a million flashing cameras at once than to hear another ingrate hacking up a lung in Satan's honor. I was horrified at whatever Skrillex was, and whatever OWSLA meant, though I broadly showcased the tattoo on my inner-right forearm, opposite of Sonny's—the boy I was sure was murdered by the fame monster itself, as Lady Gaga, though admirable, had blatently called it, or herself, or whatever “we” all were or had been once, or would be, collectively at the beginning-and-end of it all. I had seen broadly into the realms of infinity the night previous, and had settled on one, astonishing fact: all of infinitely combined shared a concéntrical center at which at any point could be accessed. Even typing such a concept, I knew it to be life-altering…if I was even alive. To think, I used to hate deadmau5– I hate deadmau5– You know—after that spat with Skrillex. GO TEAM SKRILLEX!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! who the fuck is deadmau5, anyway. But here I am, decades later. [skrillex] FUCK THIS NIGGA. I needed something to help offset the damage that was done. [someone coughing loudly] Fuck this coughs bitch! [trying on small clothes] Ohh. [kayla Lauren] [sadness] Aww. [dillon Francis] —well how was I supposed to know he was a— STOP RIGHT THERE! I'm...not moving. Yeah, you're not. Uh, okay? You know why? I didn't ask— You need THIS: What is this. I'll tell you what it is [beat] … Okay—what is it?' ILL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS. — Technically, If I do this every day, I can eat whatever I want— Just eat it. No. But I won't. Well, why not? Too Fat For Skrillex. — [C.C. Arrives in the parking lot to find her car has been vandalized...again.] ...Skrillex did this. On Jimmy Fallon. On Jimmy Fallon. Alright, then, kid—it's your dollar. I'll take “Skrillex Did It” for one dollar. But he's halfway across the world! He can shapeshift! Don't be stupid. What—! He's a shapeshifter, for real. We know! Just don't say it! I saw it. We all have. What the fuck, bro— Where did you come from? I've been here. Haven't we all? That's the spirit. What's a spirit? I'm glad you asked. As SUPACREE walks down the street, a man in the passenger's seat is seen to be the Egyptian God ANUBIS, before shifting back into hidden human form. Which one's that? Anubis, right? Googles 'deities' Oh, there he is: Anubis. Good. What's he want? Whatever it is, that's not what I was looking for. What are you looking for? That dark thing. Which “dark thing”? Flashback: That's inside me?! Flashback to Kite at Bass– UGH! Canyon. That's it. That's what it is. LET ME OUT. It's gonna destroy something. She. She–yes–apparently so. CUT BACK TO Fuck you, Skrillex! Stay over there and be Skrillex with your fucking–models–and you coughs piece of fucking–peice of fucking shit, peice of shit. Oh SHIT, who let him in? I mean, it's Skrillex. Yeah, but who let him near SUPACREE? He does what he wants. I heard that. Fuck you, Skrillex. That sounds deep. I guess so. What even happened? Nobody seems to know. Oh. –Except these guys. Who the fuck are you? Where did you come from?! CULT FOLLOWERS Yes–”WHO” Yes–”WHERE” Uh, okay. SUPACREE Fuck this shit. I quit. You can't quit. I just did. Fuck Skrillex. Ah, shit, here it comes. Go ahead, the worst he can do is cough at me and make me homeless. *loud obnoxious coughing* Do your worst. *more loud coughing* Fuckin'. Satan's pet. Satan's not real! Then neither is Skrillex. Amen. (Cult Followers, In unison.) Amen. [SUPACREE exits furiously.] What…the fuck. Pause. Wait, is this marketable? Yes. How? Cause its Skrillex. Skrillex is clickbait. What the FUCK did he do? *COUGHS* I mean, I bet– Fucking–motherfucker. Fuck. Well, now what? Now, nothing. I'mma go get a regular job and see what the industry wants with Jessica. (((Oh, I think you know what they want.))) ((Oh, God Knows)) I thought we weren't doing that bit. We're doing all the bits. MORTY. JESSICA. Oh yeah. Even better. C'esme't sighs heavily, unamused. My liege. Don't be coy with me. I would never. There are hardly any things left you would never do. If not only because I had done them all; But to be coy, with you, my Queen is neither desire or pleasure. You are clever. At your discretion. I began to wonder if I may have looked as miserable as I was, as even though I could not see my own self, walking about in my day-to-day nothingness, the expression protruding from my face felt as if it might look as lifeless as I was beginning to feel, no longer wholly choking back tears but still moving and barely breathing in the awful circumstance of doing and being–I had felt the light itself slowly draining from my eyes, and even things I loved with all my heart could not in any sense brighten this dullness. I felt Godless, and at the very least loveless, lightless, and without my magic, somehow having lost my soul and my singing voice at once. Yes, it was terrible–something was wrong, and I, without becoming the star I had so wanted, was already washing up. Homelessness drained all of what would have been a magnificent energy all together, left to become someone I wasn't sure I even liked, and seemingly cursed, as most recently, no one else seemed to like me either--still, I almost let myself believe something bigger was at play, or perhaps in the works; I had been relocated just perfect walking distance to the gym, where of course rather than look for work which would only urge me closer to suicide than I had been, I elected instead to spend a majority of my time, crafting my days around getting there for the bare minimum of three hours, but ideally closer to 5 or 6, always aiming for 8 and almost-always giving up not because I was too tired, but because I was drenched in sweat, and something like the discomfort of a wet diaper, just wanted to be fresh and dry. God, Help me with this affliction Pick a clip, Flick the bean, And watch Netflix I'm stressin, wet and undressin This sexual tension is serious Salad, with no dressin I'm the lady in the red dress, and yes I write blank checks, so when I go to Heck, I bounce back like, “Yes.” [YES] No pressure, It's my pleasure; I'd rather be in leather than in latex, lathered up Present, or past but honestly, neither matters; Just give this to Marshall Mathers, And a Dad Hat; AMEN Hey Kids, Lets not say “Amen”, After we say hanuss shit, okay? Today, I'm Eminem, so I can finally find Skrillex, And kill him: My mission is to introduce a new religion to humans, called STOP BEING STUPID. Stop Being Skrillex. Well, Alright Then. [Presses Easy Button] “WELL, THAT WAS-- CUT TO: -__- SUPACREE wakes up from a coma; In a very SKRILLEX, Get out. [He just does.] ...Where's Dillon Francis? ...Dillon Is Dead. Dilon Francis Died. He's...left us. ...Nope. Yes, he is. SUPACREE, I'm Sorry. Don't be sorry. Be Dillon Francis. The Coma--You know---must've-- You know. Nope. Where's Pasquale? Who is that? Oh, fuck this. No, wait, stop! STAHP. Bring Skrillex Back. I never left. You're never there. Here, Tres Leches … Dulce De Leche. You know what? What? NO. NO? NO. __ ALRIGHT, WHERE'S DILLON FRANCIS? Who is that? STOP PLAYING GAMES. DILLON FRANCIS is in THE VOID, trying to beat THE LEGEND of SUPACREE. It's a really good game. DILLON FRANCIS (cracked) “It's a really good game!” GAMERS It is, a really good game. So good, in fact, that when SUPACREE herself arrives, S/He pays her almost entirely no mind. Really, Dillon Francis? ... Really, Motherfucker. DILLON FRANCIS I'm The Captain SUPACREE No, I am. (I AM!) She gestures that she is about to unplug the TV DILLON FRANCIS Don't do that. SUPACREE What? I am (I AM) Don't do it again! I told you, it's-- IN Dillon. DILLON Don't FIN. SUPACREE Unplugs the Set. DEADMAU5 FUCK, MAN. FINALLY. SUPACREE Be Less Canadian. JOEL No, I can't DILLON FRANCIS No, He can't-- JESUS No, he can't. [Beat] DILLON IS SHATTERED, as at the last moment (before the determination of the outcome of the battle, it entirely ceases to exist. Moments of silence pass in infinite tension, before DILLON, looking much like an uncomfortable, overheated, skinless (live) chicken, meets a soon to be boiled crab. OH, MY GOD. GAD/SUPACREE/C.C. That's... what they call me. *coughs* -UGLY!- *coughs* *coughs* GOD. GOD No, not you. DILLON FRANCIS ...Oh, My God. GOD What, Dillon Francis? DILLON FRANCIS Are you SUPACREE? GOD I...Am. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God--I am too! GOD I know this. DILLON FRANCIS Oh My God! GOD Yeah, I know! Woah, he's Fangirling He's fangirling so hard. Well, wouldn't you. Ask me about IT.” (IS/IT) 3 heads are better than one; This is a a game based on truth; The more you ask, the more you know; The more you know about me— The more you know about yourself— The more you know about yourself, the more you know about the world You are the world. Ī ∆ M Ū. Goddammit! You son of a bitch. She won't watch it I bet she will They know I will He knows I am! I am! Oh, there we go—it's on Get off me! Goddammit, Dillon Francis! I hate you. I hate you BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK! GO BACK–WHEN TO THE WYNN!! Right—! Wait—- Not yet— I know the code. Oh she– she knows what the code is. What did I put it in? I get it, I get it, it's— Not now, then! Not then, now! Not— Wait—- DONT! ...then, I die. The DJ VALET AND THE DJ BALLET THE BAMPHERAMPH BALANCING ACT WITH THE CHAMPION OF RAP?!? ...ohhh, wave dash, I get it… Ū Alright. GOD This is the part where you don't sleep. SUPACREE Oh no. GOD You've been ‘Don't Eating' for like, 8 months now. Now it's time to Don't Sleep. SUPACREE Yikes. Û You can bet we'll have it done by the beginning of next semester. GERALD Next semester's set to not even be in a classroom. Ï Even better. Remote binge worthy media. Excerpt From: “Blū and The Cosmic Owl” ... ...Having found the fallen owl, he glances up at the sky, just as another shooting star flies by. In awe, he stands at the giant animal, who pants in a tragically cry in pain. He sorrowfully glances into the bird's giant eye, crying as his tears spill into the trail of blood, a sparkling dark purple river, streaked with the silver streams of moonlit tears and the golden gleam of a lucid dream; her dilated pupils reflect all the cosmos, sparkling through the three round dials; some sound, which has never heard or even fathomed to be made, a vibration ringing as it aligns with his light, which also shines now through his dark brown eyes; He is hypnotized, nearly full of light in a state of trance as he begins to float upward, levitating just slightly--A SUDDEN FLASH OF COSMIC LIGHT, as the wounded bird, morphs into a matching [humanoid] being, abruptly changing the frequency from a hypnotising lull, to an ear-shattering, soul startling and painstaking frequency. As they both hover above the ground-- still in levitation, he quickly looks down worriedly, then back up at the being--now matching in age, as The Princess, a pretty poised and painted warrior, adorned with the royally decadent white and purple trimmed fashion, crystals and gemstones of the galaxies imbedded into her sashes. He's enamoured and intrigued, less terrified than excited; however her eyes, now changing a through colors of neon light, reflect her terrified and painful confusion, having been wounded with the weapon of ‘man'--he falls toward the ground, suddenly, groaning in pain, then turning into a fetal position from which he cowers in fear under her. A tear, which has formed in her eye, nearly falls; she forcefully reabsorbs it back into her eyes, as she calms herself down, lowering gracefully to the ground. She crouches over him, thinking twice quite literally, before angrily kneeling over him, yielding a ball of fire out of one hand, holding him by his shirt with the other--he cowers in fear, now--his awestruck chased away by the apparent power of this being; she quickly throws her fireball at a nearby bush, lighting it as he glares at the sight slightly stupified by the fire light, which he likes. A splash of water drenches him from head to toe, blasting off his pink glasses and shattering playful spry outlook with a very grumpy pout, as he stands up, dripping from head to toe. She stands, one leg crossed over the other, another dream of water floating in her hand; as he stands dripping, she blasts him again, with the intensity of a firehose pushing him back. Taking awhile to get back, she waits, meditating by the bush as a campfire, as he, still dripping approaches. She looks out of one eye, unassumingly continuing to meditate as he approaches the fire, which he sits by, as closely and cautiously on the other side, trying to get dry. She looks at him from the other eye, calmly sighing as she blasts him with the surprise of an almost blow dry, which she provides by colliding her hands stretched outwardly towards him; the heated gust leaves him looking somewhat like a freshly groomed poodle--his dark brown hair to match his sweet and gentle eyes, by which, his glasses having been blasted off a third time, he notices as he pushes up on the bridge of his nose, realizing he's lost them again--before he can even (literally) think to retrieve them, they float, guided by her telekinetic twisting of her index finger. BLŪ ...thank you... Still unable to form words, she just gazes at him from over the firelight, sternly searching perhaps, for the way to create a translation between her native telepathic ways of communication, or any of the alien languages--she is unfamiliar with this, though captioned in (several, actually) alien languages, we, as the audience can perceive any of the dialogue just to be "english". PRINCESS Why would you do that?! BLŪ What?! PRINCESS What you did to me! BLŪ I didn't mean to! PRINCESS Mean to what? BLŪ Shoot you!? I-- PRINCESS Why would you ‘shoot' an Owl!? BLŪ An ‘owl?' I'm sorry! I didn't! PRINCESS Didn't what? LOOK. [She appears, even still, to be wounded.] BLŪ I--I never-- PRINCESS Never what? BLŪ I've never seen an ‘owl' before… PRINCESS So you just--!? BLŪ I'm sorry! PRINCESS What were you attempting to do? BLŪ I don't know! PRINCESS You don't know? BLŪ No! I just-- PRINCESS You? BLŪ I...just… PRINCESS You… BLŪ I… PRINCESS … [She appears to be bleeding through the sheath of her bodice.] BLU ...Are you ok? CYPHER I: ‘The Coffee Run' This is my job, Like this is your job I look at the jaw I want what you want This is my planet we're on This is is my plan, I got lost in it Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not You just want a nut with a butt I just want a bud-- [Sample, Dillon Francis: Hey Buddy! (The Coffee Run)] --I'm not your buddy. Ah. Look at that car; I'm on a coffee run at McDonald's How much does it cost? A dollar, one— It's like putting gas in my car, I don't wanna I don't wanna I don't wanna Call Jimmy Fallon to borrow a dollar. It's a coffee run A coffee run A coffee run; You cough, I run You like? I'm fun The west was won by everything under the Sun, Run it This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ INT. SOMEWHERE IN ALASKA. DAY. [Before the initial collision... ] DEVIL Exited for EDC? Ï Are you serious? DEVIL Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Ï Dillon Francis? DEVIL Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Ï Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. DEVIL Why not? This guy is awesome. Ï (rolling eyes) Since when do you listen to EDM? DEVIL I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. VIDEO: NEED YOU, NGHTMRE & DILLON FRANCIS Ï Huh. CUT TO: DILLON FRANCIS arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he is ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. CUT TO SUPACREE What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him, asking "Who the fuck is that?" HANZEL Wvell that's because ze answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Ū Exactly. SUPACREE Oh, please. CUT TO: INT. THE GREAT SALTAIR. SALT LAKE CITY, UT. [SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted.] SŪP∆ Yikes. [She looks down at her [watch, which appears to be a early version of the Synesthesia Panel] it is 7:35.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Annnnnd--the night is young… [She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs, She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. ] DIMITRI Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. SŪP∆ Every day is rave day. DIMITRI I wish. SŪP∆ Wishes come true. DIMITRI Ugh, I wish. SŪP∆ Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. DIMITRI Think so? SŪP∆ Know so. Like--know-know… so…don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just...be...specific. [He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance.] SŪP∆ (CONT'D) ...like super specific. DIMITRI ...Specific…Wishes… SŪP∆ ‘Rollin'? [DIMITRI nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat bass house music coming from the mainstage.] SŪP∆ Just kicked in? DIMITRI (shaking head in agreement) Yuh. SŪP∆ Water? [She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immediately [DIMITRI takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front of him; however, his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up to see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up.] SŪP∆ Spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. DIMITRI ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! [He happily takes a stick, as the DJ loops [live sampling] the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown; Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as DIMITRI 'checks' himself, clearly unaware of Supa's Powers.] SŪP∆ Trash. [He enters his trash into the bag, after which, it immediately collapses, as it vanishes.] DIMITRI ...what was...what was that. SŪP∆ That...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. ((( ))) (Magic Isn't Real!) SŪP∆ Oh, fuck, right. DILLON FRANCIS(in the next dimension over) DILLON FRANCIS Is. SŪP∆ Uh, Personal Space. DILLON FRANCIS Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" SŪP∆ Telepathy wasn't invented at all. DILLON FRANCIS Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. SŪP∆ This has been previously established. DILLON FRANCIS I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. SŪP∆ Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? DILLON FRANCIS Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp, just so we can have this conversation--? Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, Previously...established… SŪP∆ So what's the other half of thAt… was it even an album. Is it an EP? DILLON FRANCIS Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ! I mean, I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know --where the actual DJs...DJ. Behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. SŪP∆ ...k… DILLON FRANCIS Which you're not. SŪP∆ Oh, I'm not. DILLON FRANCIS No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. SŪP∆ ‘Not a DJ.' DILLON FRANCIS Not a DJ. Right. SŪP∆ Not a DJ...with Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. SŪP∆ Okay. Not-- DILLON FRANCIS Not ever-- SŪP∆ Oh right, not Ever--s BOTH --a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. SŪP∆ BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. DILLON FRANCIS I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. SŪP∆ So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS And albums. Like, tracks. SŪP∆ Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. DILLON FRANCIS Tracks. SŪP∆ I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DILLON FRANCIS DJ Dillon Francis SŪP∆ Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. DILLON FRANCIS but you're my best fan. SŪP∆ Best Fan! DILLON FRANCIS BEST FAN AWARD. SŪP∆ YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS FAN CAM! SŪP∆ ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON FRANCIS THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SŪP∆ YEAH. [Posing for a selfie, she uses one of her rave weapons (which is, actually just a regular iPhone) spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo created a time warp and intersectable checkpoint in time. She unfreezes the rave.] DIMITRI ...magic…? SŪP∆ Uh--no! ‘magic'. The music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah. DIMITRI trash...brand...bags... SŪP∆ ...yeah... [They continue to dance; she nervously looks over her shoulder for possible alternate versions of DILLON FRANCIS At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--she readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing DIMITRI by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) SŪP∆ (CONT'D) Now, business talk time. DIMITRI Serious face? [She nods adamantly. DIMITRI tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses.] CUT TO: EXT. THE OPEN SEAS. DAY [In a nearby dimension, As SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS continue to battle, they cross paths at sea.] SKRILLEX Nice Dinghy, dude. DILLON FRANCIS It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. SKRILLEX Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. DILLON FRANCIS She's the star of the show. SKRILLEX Not without me. [A BAMPHERAMPH teleportals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, tagging him, BAMPHERAMPH TAG, YOU'RE IT. [He disappears into another portal.] SKRILLEX I'm it. DILLON FRANCIS Nah, you're just “Skrillex.” SKRILLEX That's--all you need. [A MOTHERFUCKER portals onto SKRILLEX'S boat, via another portal, handing him an *object*] MOTHERFUCKER Humility. You need it. SKRILLEX ...I made the HUMBLE remix. MOTHERFUCKER Yeah you did. [THE MOTHERFUCKER disappears into a portal; SKRILLEX unwraps the object; It is a pie, labeled ‘HUMBLE PIE.'] SKRILLEX Hm. FLASHBACK: BASS DROP, HUMBLE (Skrillex Remix) CUT BACK: As the bass drops, the pie explodes; This leaves him covered in a very fruity mess, and a *bass face* CUT TO: INT. OWSLA HQ. DAY MANAGER I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. SONNY/SKRILLEX Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. [DILLON FRANCIS shows up, out of nowhere.] DILON FRANCIS Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… SKRILLEX Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of ‘Everliving Skrillex' is, I'll wait. DILLON FRANCIS My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. SKRILLEX My left sock was 69.99 this morning. MANAGER Why are you buying individual socks--??? DILLON FRANCIS Why are you buying socks in the mornings? MANAGER You're up late, how are you even up in the morning?! DILLON FRANCIS Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? MANAGER Who are you again? DILLON FRANCIS I'm Dillon Francis. DJ- Dillon Francis. SKRILLEX Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all? Yeah actually--He pushed Skrillex off a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX ...What? [DILLON FRANCIS portals them back onto the YACHT SCENE.] *alt* SKRILLEX and *alt* DILLON FRANCIS are still fighting; They are now both on the deck of SKRILLEX's boat, DILLON FRANCIS's mini yacht burning/ devastated by what appears to be a giant kraken in the background.] ALT/SKRILLEX FUCK YOUR MINIATURE YACHT. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You're a miniature yacht! SKRILLEX Is that US?! MANAGER I told you... ALT/SKRILLEX You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really! You're just…'Dillon Francis. ‘ ALT/DILLON FRANCIS And you're just stranded in the ocean. ALT/SKRILLEX It's okay, it's hella refreshing! UNLIKE YOUR MUSIC. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS You know what--? DILLON FRANCIS (to his alternate self) I got this. ALT/SKRILLEX Huh? [DILLON FRANCIS blasts ALT/SKRILLEX into a portal, which whirlpools him into an alternate dimension; SKRILLEX and the MANAGER look on in horror.] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS Oh God, Finally! DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, I know. ALT/DILLON FRANCIS That took FOREVER. [DILLON FRANCIS rolls his eyes and hands his alternate self a small object*.] ALT/ DILLON FRANCIS By the way-- [He opens up another portal, reaching out just to jump into it, exclaiming:] ALT/DILLON FRANCIS (CONT'D) Tag, you're it. [He disappears into the portal.] DILLON FRANCIS OH, GOD DAMMIT. COMEUPOUTDAWAHTA, S U P A C R E E M I X X __________ SKRILLEX Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. DILLON FRANCIS Suhweeet planet… SUPACREE No! Don't land on that planet! [He lands.] SUPACREE God DAMMIT. GOD I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time. SUPACREE I gave it spacetime! I am time! GOD I know you are, dear. Just be patient. SUPACREE Be patient? He went and put his DILLON FRANCIS all over it. JESUS Let Dillon Francis play with your planet, yeah? SUPACREE What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. JESUS But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. SUPACREE I do know how it goes. I wrote it. GOD How does it go? It goes: SUPACREE --No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. /SKRILLEX No planet for Dillon Francis. SUPACREE This isn't Dillon Francis Land, it's closed. And also Not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. GOD That had a lot of heart, hun. SUPACREE And no Dillon Francis. JESUS Actually, it had a lot of that, too. SKRILLEX Aha. SUPACREE --Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not-that, I'm about to knock the not-that-hot-sauce off his-- /SKRILLEX --mini yacht knocking-- SUPACREE --sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! /SKRILLEX AGHRAHGHHGH!!! JESUS Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? SUPACREE MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. SUPACREE + SKRILLEX FUCK DILLON FRANCIS. JESUS sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. SUPACREE/SKRILLEX It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ DILLON FRANCIS Hey. This is a nice planet. Ū He's gonna be like-- DILLON FRANCIS Like flabbergasted. Ū Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? DILLON FRANCIS Yeah. Ū Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? DILLON FRANCIS --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars). SKRILLEX finds the coupon.] $-FREE MCFURY. SKRILLEX ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! CUT BACK TO Ū Hehehe. EXT. AN ‘ALIEN' PLANET. SPACE THE SKRILLEX Enters The Atmosphere. THE SKRILLEX 'I AM SKRILLEX' S- Sunnï Blū, Ninja Guru Singer/Songwriter Ū- The Anti-Anti-Hero, the Superhero Persona, Ninja Assassin, and Mothafuckin' Bampheramph P-PEACE (Piece, Piece of the Puzzle, Piece of Pie, etc.) Problemo (Exists when too many plot holes and complexities arrive, also “The Pretender”, who just ignores when crazy shit happens, questions all realities (?) Alt+J- SUPACREE, The DIvine Trinity C- (Copyright Symbol) The Original Cree, Alternately Chak Chel, the ancient spirit guide ‘trapped' inside of the Physical Body to Accompany and Assist through magic, rituals, and energy manipulation through music, time space, and all reality which exists within the fathomable and expanding infinite consciousness. (thought to be ancient, however actually originating from hyper intelligent and extraterrestrial existence in the outer realms. Caricatures (“Characters” Based On Various Entertainment Artists Personas, To Be Played (As themselves) S-Dillon Francis U-Dillon Frances P-Dillon T. Francis A-Dillon Flances C-Dillon Glances R-Dillon France Is E-Fillon Dances E-(Fictional Dillon) Francis/Is Pasquale -DJ Hanzel -DJ Rich As Fuck -Gerald -N(E)RD (Pronounced” NED”) Sonny Moore/Skrillex -Hereby referenced to as SS, there exists “Infinite Skrillex” variably throughout the Multiverse, however, Skrillex himself is (secretly) the singular (and seemingly random apparent “phenomenon”) of his kind. A rare and shiny seemingly shapeshifting sorcerer, the concept and use of “Fictional Skrillex” is separated into a multitude of characters, uses and ambiguities explained throughout the series. *Spoiler*, Tying into the Theme of an Ever Expanding (and alternately, Collapsing/Compressing) Infinite Multidimensional, The Term Skrillex can refer the the Persona, or Person as Himself, but alternately is used as a noun, pronoun, verb, or adjective--even sometimes as a profanity, or to be referred to as a “race”. Sammi B,/LSDream/Brillz -Sam I Am (Festival Trip Alter Ego) -I Am Sam (Festival Trip Second Alter Ego) Pasqualle Rotella A nameless, untranslatable into spoken or written language symbol, to be decided. An Ultra-Omnipitent giant (predominately purple, but emanating all colors of the cosmos) Galaxy of Ultra Concious Light Waves, SoundFrequencies, and Own Planetary Solar System, Boasting Stars which rival our own sun. A brilliant Collection of Space Dust (A relative of “Fart”, from Rick and Morty) Evil Pasquale Pasqualle Is Dillon Francis Mr. Rager (Underground Pasqualle) A No-Named Burner and Ultimate Raver, whose domain is the kingdom of the underground rave scene--he detests the mainstream, traveling (across time, as an undercover Bampheramph), Wally (Never started Insomniac, Works At Walmart as Greeter. Never Raved.) In a homage to the second back to the future, U has traveled back to 1993 to create a reality where Google and Insomniac, etc. are owned and operated by SupaCree, skewing into an adjacent timeline in the future where her superstardom and rise to fame begins as a child star on Disney Channel, crossing multiple timelines interdimensionally intersected on the Infinite Grid so complex, it begins to create a disastrous series of knots, loops, and voids, tangled now permanently into the fabric of time. Wally is asked to fill in for his coworker in the photography section, where he develops photos from a disposable camera and is enamoured by the dazzling magic of EDC captured on camera. His eyes widen as he glimpses into the photos; it is love at first sight. He makes doubles of the photos, later creating a vision board (used as a totem, easter egg throughout series) Wally's World lol The Ascended Masters The Psychonauts The Bampheramphs (& Mothafuckin' Bampheramphs, Respectively) The Insomniacs (& Pasquallians, a secret sect of magicians, sorcerers and alchemists, seers and mystics carefully selected as keyholders to ‘The Secret Gates', a secret interdimensional transit system hidden beyond VIP (VIP+, VIP++, VIP+++, and VIP (+/-) which actually contains an underground city, a massive classified compound which exists between cross dimensions, allowing for shifts in the timespace continuums and temporary constructs of reality adjust by a mastery of manipulative conception, a complete control of energy--even allowing for such things as matter to appear, disappear, The Toxic Avengers, Traveling across the Multiverse to Avenge the annihilation, assassinations, and massacre of The Infinite Skrillex Cinematic Adventures With The Insimniacs Lol ew. *The Insomniacs DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! —YES—and no! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale?” I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella— Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you're shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks red hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's la

god music american world google earth man spoilers mexico magic real walk dj chinese home sleep tour satan forever iphone eating adventures sun stone planet mcdonald touch alien traveling ugly shifting preparation shit humble lol basic picking belgium remote fuck galaxy vip egyptian collection back to the future amen powers bass piece lady gaga characters dreaming blow heck i am eminem knock plot warm persona multiverse salt lake city idiots mercury guided arsenal shut void djs homelessness venice moments copyright farts edm fix puzzle surface flashback ut fin bingo whitney houston wishes californians salad cont fucking aha cc arrives mm other side ss ned technically blu pie assist morty jack black int mercer nevermind canyon disney channel my god zimmerman cinematic unsolved hm owl rollin flick tying ketamine dimitri beaten kite cough volatile skrillex godless mercenaries insomniacs edc pistol peculiar s p ruff mmm slipping ita pretender untitled deadmau5 persephone posing pringle fuckin touche humble pie collapsed pasquale evers dillon francis motherfuckers anubis ohh downstairs avenge supa aww personal space uhhh ext physical body masonry accompany oh shit black parade sighs uhh right right sunn coughs yarg caricatures nghtmre marshall mathers shut the fuck up yuh befuddled i am god greeter pondered ninja assassin tres leches yo ho ho friar tuck outfitted rsvping owsla let me out open seas vip vip dad hat pasquale rotella mazunte allison wonderland who what when where why

‘Diplo's Escape From The Blacklist' -Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 8, 2022 15:43

" Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." iPhones . What? The 3rd world war is fought with phones. Oh. This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective conciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technolocally-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of conciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infintely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting eachother in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculius lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. In rick and morty's universe: Ohhh, oh shit rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? Uhhh--Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. Oh, you mean Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… --You said "monkey" twice-- ...Space Wars… I don't know, morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, t got, uh, it got pretty deep. Flashback: Dillon Pickle Francis/ pickle rick Flashback: Hellavator Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating rick and morty/justin roiland from existence in entirety. ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from run ricky run) as it's main character. What the-- Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. --who, what? H-h-holdon-- Morty, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to it's original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. DUEL! Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! This is just, brutal-- That was just a highlight real. The boss fight is live. Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! Hanzel and Gretl are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immidiately transport attendees into the Collesium, where a furious Sonny/Skrillex and a rage-fueled SŪP∆ have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating worm holes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Raveweaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Collesium at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage Unassumingly, strolling along stage right Skrillex sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entorage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popcicles, and cupcakes...supaclassy. Dillon Francis lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omnj-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imiginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after) SŪP∆ after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She preforms various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. (MIND. BLOWN.) throughout the dimensions: AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* Dillon, from center Sees SŪP∆ seeing Skrillex, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confusious.) She's mad. Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see Skrillex seeing SŪP∆, squinting Skrillexy. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. OH GOD, NO! He morphs into Dillon glances/flances, (3) (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th Dillon Glances: I can't. Dillon Francis: You CAN. Glances: I can't. I'm not a DJ. Dillon Francis: Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. glances: Jesus. Dillon Francis: DO IT. they run off in three seperate directions: Dillon Francis runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place... Dillon Flances runs into the festivals huge and quickly growingega-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exciting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. Dillon Glances, who is not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort,( by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") , eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.)--posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks Skrillex and SŪP∆ charge towards eachother furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to eachother, radiating in fury and anger, they explode at eachother. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simoltaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. Skrillex: Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? Dillon Francis: *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS? Bampheramphs: From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars. Dillon Francis? Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ Rich As Fuck: Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. Dillon Francis: Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? Dillon Francis: Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, Dillon vanishes. What the-- BOTH: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) what are you doing here? Dillon: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? Skrillex: Why? Dillon Francis: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't WHAT Dillon Francis, blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? Giggatwats? Gooodddamn. (God is going mad from all the goddamnes goddamns, the Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.) Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. Rave… Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? Pasqualle: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. Coming in from other room. Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt thier heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simoltaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ Before the initial collision... Exited for EDC? Are you serious? Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Dillon Francis? Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. Why not? This guy is awesome. *Rolls eyes* since when do you listen to EDM? I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. (She watches the video where Dillon Francis plays a backyard party) Huh. ________________ Dillon Francis arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he i ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him asking "Who the fuck is that?" Well that's because the answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Exactly. Oh, please. The Great Saltair, Salt Lake City, Utah SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted. Yikes. She looks down at her [watch/early version of the synesthesia panel] it is 7:35. Annnnnd--the night is young… She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs: She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. Dimitri: Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. Supa: Every day is rave day. Dimitri: I wish. Supa: it is. And wishes come true. Dimitri: Ugh, I wish. Supa: Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. Dimitri: Think so? Supa: Know so. Like--know-know...so...don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just…be...specific. *He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance* ...like super specific. Dimitri: ...Specific…Wishes… Supa: Rollin'? Dimitri: *he nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat house coming from the mainstage* Supa: just kicked in? Dimitri: shaking head in agreement Yuh. Supa: Water? (She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immidiately) Dimitri: (he takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front oh him, but his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up yo see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up. Supa: spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. Dimitri: ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! He happily the DJ loops the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown S Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as Dimitri 'checks' himself, unaware of Supa's Powers. Supa: Trash. He enters his trash, after which supa immidiately collapses, as it vanishes. Dimitri: ...what was...what was that. Supa: that...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. (magic isnt real.) Oh, fuck, right. Dillon Francis (in the next dimension over) Is. Uh, Personal Space. Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" Telepathy wasn't invented at all. Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. This has been previously established. I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp so we can have this conversation--which, by the way I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, previously...established… So what's the other half of thAt...was it even an album. Is it an EP? Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ, I mean I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know--where the actual DJs...DJ. behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. ...k… Which you're not. Oh, I'm not. No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. Not a DJ. Not a DJ. Right. Not a DJ...with Magic. Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. Okay. Not-- Dillon Francis: Not ever-- Oh right, not ever both: a DJ. Dillon Francis: I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. Supa: BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. Dillon Francis: I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. Supa: So many fans. Dillon Francis: and albums. Like, tracks. Supa: Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DIllon Francis: DJ Dillon Francis Supa: Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. Dillon Francis: but you're my best fan. Supa: Best Fan! Dillon Francis: BEST FAN. SUPA: YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS: FAN CAM! SUPA ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON: THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SUPA: YEAH. (posing for a selfie. she spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo Dimitri: ...magic…? Supa: uh--no! magic, the music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah Dimitri: trash...brand...bags... Supa: ...yeah (At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--Supa readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing dimitri by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) Now, business talk time. Dimitri: serious face? Dimitri tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses. Nice Dinghy, dude. It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. She's the star of the show. Not without me. I'm it. Nah, you're just Skrillex. That's--all you need. Humility. You need it. I made the HUMBLE remix. We all know you're her favorite--and we all know she needs it. And everything age writes I lead it She lets you do that? You bought it. It wasn't me. You know what? What? I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of Everliving Skrillex is, I'll wait. My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. My left sock was 69.99 this morning. Why are you buying individual socks--and why are you buying socks in the mornings? You're up late, how are you even up in the morning? Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all. Yeah actually--I pushed Skrillex off my miniaature yacht! Youre a miniature yacht. You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really. Youre just...Dillon Francis. And you're just stranded in the ocean. And you're still just Dillon Francis. I'm ok. It's refreshing. Unlike (Fresh up out the wata __________ Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. Suhweeet planet… No! Don't land on that planet! He lands . God DAMMIT. I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time I gave is spacetime! I am time! I know you are, dear. Just be patient. Be patient? I claimed it! And the. He went and put his DILLON FRANSIS all over it. Let Dillon Francis play with your planet yeah? What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. I do know how it goes. I wrote it. How does it go? It goes--No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. No planet for Dillon Francis this isn't Dillon Francis Land, its closed. and also not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. That had a lot of heart, hun. And no Dillon Francis. Actually, it had a lot of that, too. Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not that, once I knock the not-that-hotsauce off his mini yacht knocking sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ Hey. This is a nice planet. He's gonna be like-- Like flabbergasted. Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? Yeah. Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars)] $-FREE MCFURY. ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! Cut back: Hehehe. The Skrillex Enters The Atmosphere. 'I AM SKRILLEX' _________ Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds. Three Cities Three Mainstages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! group dancing to solja boy (youuuuuuuu) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually. He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, the ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of conciousness. She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of conciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue) The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner. Guys. The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ...Shhht, quiet... The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion SupaCree shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" Guys. As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. Chak Chel (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it Chak Chel: Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time (tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Expect here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision DECISION BY WHO? They fall quiet. WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed body? What genetic catastrophy allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE? WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS, ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... The Gods all react in suprise and horror, ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and it's inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) bedside ensemble in a shielded field; SupaCree senses the energy field, Which she walks into. She has awakened her conciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- (The origins) Once we send her back, she will have been three times ressurected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumeous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as fortold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkess-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosized personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SupaCree through the window. Telepathically, her very loud and dissaproving She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of the light fir quite sometime now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocraxy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darnesss, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepards and priest in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of the source light in the loss of Love, the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality, Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SupaCree appears behind him in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. "Exactly, actually--actually," SupaCree appears, Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! Time? What the fuck is time? Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- Explain it when? When you have time? He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans, I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint " Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective conciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technolocally-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of conciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infintely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting eachother in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculius lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. In rick and morty's universe: Ohhh, oh shit rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? Uhhh--Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. Oh, you mean Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… --You said "monkey" twice-- ...Space Wars… I don't know, morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, t got, uh, it got pretty deep. Flashback: Dillon Pickle Francis/ pickle rick Flashback: Hellavator Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating rick and morty/justin roiland from existence in entirety. ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from run ricky run) as it's main character. What the-- Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. --who, what? H-h-holdon-- Morty, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to it's original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. DUEL! Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! This is just, brutal-- That was just a highlight real. The boss fight is live. Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! Hanzel and Gretl are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immidiately transport attendees into the Collesium, where a furious Sonny/Skrillex and a rage-fueled SŪP∆ have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating worm holes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Raveweaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Collesium at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage Unassumingly, strolling along stage right Skrillex sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entorage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popcicles, and cupcakes...supaclassy. Dillon Francis lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omnj-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imiginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after) SŪP∆ after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She preforms various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. (MIND. BLOWN.) throughout the dimensions: AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* Dillon, from center Sees SŪP∆ seeing Skrillex, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confusious.) She's mad. Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see Skrillex seeing SŪP∆, squinting Skrillexy. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. OH GOD, NO! He morphs into Dillon glances/flances, (3) (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th Dillon Glances: I can't. Dillon Francis: You CAN. Glances: I can't. I'm not a DJ. Dillon Francis: Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. glances: Jesus. Dillon Francis: DO IT. they run off in three seperate directions: Dillon Francis runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place... Dillon Flances runs into the festivals huge and quickly growingega-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exciting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. Dillon Glances, who is not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort,( by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") , eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.)--posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks Skrillex and SŪP∆ charge towards eachother furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to eachother, radiating in fury and anger, they explode at eachother. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simoltaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. Skrillex: Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? Dillon Francis: *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS? Bampheramphs: From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars. Dillon Francis? Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ Rich As Fuck: Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. Dillon Francis: Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? Dillon Francis: Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, Dillon vanishes. What the-- BOTH: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) what are you doing here? Dillon: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? Skrillex: Why? Dillon Francis: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't WHAT Dillon Francis, blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? Giggatwats? Gooodddamn. (God is going mad from all the goddamnes goddamns, the Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.) Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. Rave… Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? Pasqualle: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. Coming in from other room. Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt thier heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simoltaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! He knows what it is; He know what it is— I know what it is; We know what it is, “So it is, then” Woah Move>< bun up the dance What happened to your blacklist Fuck the blacklist YES except Diplo, he stays. DIPLO what. Alright, moving on. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

america god love jesus christ time death live movies google earth moving water space hell magic reality deep nature dj food girl masters home tips fun left mind satan forever darkness iphone jewish gods 3d boss stage humility divine run escape planet beyonce wars paradise happy birthday monkeys humble lol relax plays invasion b2b fuck vip egyptian guys powers imagination patterns halo prop elements bet ascension opens prophets explain plot bitch punishment infinite salt lake city roller coasters mormon greed void sol djs fat venice walks copyright edm nah sauce element billie eilish alchemy surprised bucket destroyed rolls alchemists wishes rick and morty duel aha mm heavens rave underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon morty hmmm eco blown lit hm diplo avicii sticks and stones blacklist hoes pop tarts dimitri guardian angels skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god zooming yuck mmm oh my god se7en for free spirit world three times telepathy sunni father time did you know commonalities ascended masters kandi dillon francis tsh hardstyle yas neva supa personal space heh crypt keeper fuck you god complex binoculars getter no pants volts uhh aight hehehe pft annnnnd sampled psh agh exited viva mexico katey sagal rezz free water yuh befuddled space wars my future hanzel heeeeey fvck hellevator thedarkside red cups ahe gretl and nothing allison wonderland

‘Diplo Escapes From The Blacklist' -Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 8, 2022 15:43

This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ Before the initial collision... Exited for EDC? Are you serious? Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Dillon Francis? Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. Why not? This guy is awesome. *Rolls eyes* since when do you listen to EDM? I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. (She watches the video where Dillon Francis plays a backyard party) Huh. ________________ Dillon Francis arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he i ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him asking "Who the fuck is that?" Well that's because the answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Exactly. Oh, please. The Great Saltair, Salt Lake City, Utah SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted. Yikes. She looks down at her [watch/early version of the synesthesia panel] it is 7:35. Annnnnd--the night is young… She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs: She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. Dimitri: Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. Supa: Every day is rave day. Dimitri: I wish. Supa: it is. And wishes come true. Dimitri: Ugh, I wish. Supa: Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. Dimitri: Think so? Supa: Know so. Like--know-know...so...don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just…be...specific. *He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance* ...like super specific. Dimitri: ...Specific…Wishes… Supa: Rollin'? Dimitri: *he nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat house coming from the mainstage* Supa: just kicked in? Dimitri: shaking head in agreement Yuh. Supa: Water? (She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immidiately) Dimitri: (he takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front oh him, but his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up yo see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up. Supa: spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. Dimitri: ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! He happily the DJ loops the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown S Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as Dimitri 'checks' himself, unaware of Supa's Powers. Supa: Trash. He enters his trash, after which supa immidiately collapses, as it vanishes. Dimitri: ...what was...what was that. Supa: that...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. (magic isnt real.) Oh, fuck, right. Dillon Francis (in the next dimension over) Is. Uh, Personal Space. Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" Telepathy wasn't invented at all. Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. This has been previously established. I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp so we can have this conversation--which, by the way I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, previously...established… So what's the other half of thAt...was it even an album. Is it an EP? Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ, I mean I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know--where the actual DJs...DJ. behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. ...k… Which you're not. Oh, I'm not. No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. Not a DJ. Not a DJ. Right. Not a DJ...with Magic. Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. Okay. Not-- Dillon Francis: Not ever-- Oh right, not ever both: a DJ. Dillon Francis: I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. Supa: BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. Dillon Francis: I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. Supa: So many fans. Dillon Francis: and albums. Like, tracks. Supa: Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DIllon Francis: DJ Dillon Francis Supa: Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. Dillon Francis: but you're my best fan. Supa: Best Fan! Dillon Francis: BEST FAN. SUPA: YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS: FAN CAM! SUPA ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON: THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SUPA: YEAH. (posing for a selfie. she spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo Dimitri: ...magic…? Supa: uh--no! magic, the music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah Dimitri: trash...brand...bags... Supa: ...yeah (At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--Supa readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing dimitri by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) Now, business talk time. Dimitri: serious face? Dimitri tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses. Nice Dinghy, dude. It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. She's the star of the show. Not without me. I'm it. Nah, you're just Skrillex. That's--all you need. Humility. You need it. I made the HUMBLE remix. We all know you're her favorite--and we all know she needs it. And everything age writes I lead it She lets you do that? You bought it. It wasn't me. You know what? What? I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of Everliving Skrillex is, I'll wait. My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. My left sock was 69.99 this morning. Why are you buying individual socks--and why are you buying socks in the mornings? You're up late, how are you even up in the morning? Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all. Yeah actually--I pushed Skrillex off my miniaature yacht! Youre a miniature yacht. You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really. Youre just...Dillon Francis. And you're just stranded in the ocean. And you're still just Dillon Francis. I'm ok. It's refreshing. Unlike (Fresh up out the wata __________ Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. Suhweeet planet… No! Don't land on that planet! He lands . God DAMMIT. I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time I gave is spacetime! I am time! I know you are, dear. Just be patient. Be patient? I claimed it! And the. He went and put his DILLON FRANSIS all over it. Let Dillon Francis play with your planet yeah? What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. I do know how it goes. I wrote it. How does it go? It goes--No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. No planet for Dillon Francis this isn't Dillon Francis Land, its closed. and also not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. That had a lot of heart, hun. And no Dillon Francis. Actually, it had a lot of that, too. Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not that, once I knock the not-that-hotsauce off his mini yacht knocking sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ Hey. This is a nice planet. He's gonna be like-- Like flabbergasted. Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? Yeah. Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars)] $-FREE MCFURY. ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! Cut back: Hehehe. The Skrillex Enters The Atmosphere. 'I AM SKRILLEX' _________ Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds. Three Cities Three Mainstages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! group dancing to solja boy (youuuuuuuu) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually. He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, the ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of conciousness. She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of conciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue) The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner. Guys. The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ...Shhht, quiet... The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion SupaCree shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" Guys. As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. Chak Chel (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it Chak Chel: Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time (tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Expect here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision DECISION BY WHO? They fall quiet. WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed body? What genetic catastrophy allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE? WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS, ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... The Gods all react in suprise and horror, ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and it's inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) bedside ensemble in a shielded field; SupaCree senses the energy field, Which she walks into. She has awakened her conciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- (The origins) Once we send her back, she will have been three times ressurected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumeous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as fortold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkess-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosized personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SupaCree through the window. Telepathically, her very loud and dissaproving She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of the light fir quite sometime now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocraxy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darnesss, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepards and priest in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of the source light in the loss of Love, the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality, Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SupaCree appears behind him in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. "Exactly, actually--actually," SupaCree appears, Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! Time? What the fuck is time? Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- Explain it when? When you have time? He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans, I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint " Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective conciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technolocally-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of conciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infintely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting eachother in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculius lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. In rick and morty's universe: Ohhh, oh shit rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? Uhhh--Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. Oh, you mean Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… --You said "monkey" twice-- ...Space Wars… I don't know, morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, t got, uh, it got pretty deep. Flashback: Dillon Pickle Francis/ pickle rick Flashback: Hellavator Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating rick and morty/justin roiland from existence in entirety. ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from run ricky run) as it's main character. What the-- Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. --who, what? H-h-holdon-- Morty, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to it's original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. DUEL! Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! This is just, brutal-- That was just a highlight real. The boss fight is live. Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! Hanzel and Gretl are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immidiately transport attendees into the Collesium, where a furious Sonny/Skrillex and a rage-fueled SŪP∆ have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating worm holes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Raveweaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Collesium at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage Unassumingly, strolling along stage right Skrillex sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entorage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popcicles, and cupcakes...supaclassy. Dillon Francis lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omnj-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imiginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after) SŪP∆ after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She preforms various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. (MIND. BLOWN.) throughout the dimensions: AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* Dillon, from center Sees SŪP∆ seeing Skrillex, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confusious.) She's mad. Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see Skrillex seeing SŪP∆, squinting Skrillexy. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. OH GOD, NO! He morphs into Dillon glances/flances, (3) (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th Dillon Glances: I can't. Dillon Francis: You CAN. Glances: I can't. I'm not a DJ. Dillon Francis: Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. glances: Jesus. Dillon Francis: DO IT. they run off in three seperate directions: Dillon Francis runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place... Dillon Flances runs into the festivals huge and quickly growingega-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exciting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. Dillon Glances, who is not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort,( by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") , eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.)--posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks Skrillex and SŪP∆ charge towards eachother furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to eachother, radiating in fury and anger, they explode at eachother. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simoltaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. Skrillex: Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? Dillon Francis: *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS? Bampheramphs: From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars. Dillon Francis? Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ Rich As Fuck: Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. Dillon Francis: Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? Dillon Francis: Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, Dillon vanishes. What the-- BOTH: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) what are you doing here? Dillon: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? Skrillex: Why? Dillon Francis: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't WHAT Dillon Francis, blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? Giggatwats? Gooodddamn. (God is going mad from all the goddamnes goddamns, the Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.) Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. Rave… Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? Pasqualle: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. Coming in from other room. Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt thier heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simoltaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! He knows what it is; He know what it is— I know what it is; We know what it is, “So it is, then” Woah Move>< bun up the dance What happened to your blacklist Fuck the blacklist YES except Diplo, he stays. DIPLO what. Alright, moving on. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ Before the initial collision... Exited for EDC? Are you serious? Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Dillon Francis? Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. Why not? This guy is awesome. *Rolls eyes* since when do you listen to EDM? I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. (She watches the video where Dillon Francis plays a backyard party) Huh. ________________ Dillon Francis arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he i ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him asking "Who the fuck is that?" Well that's because the answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Exactly. Oh, please. The Great Saltair, Salt Lake City, Utah SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted. Yikes. She looks down at her [watch/early version of the synesthesia panel] it is 7:35. Annnnnd--the night is young… She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs: She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. Dimitri: Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. Supa: Every day is rave day. Dimitri: I wish. Supa: it is. And wishes come true. Dimitri: Ugh, I wish. Supa: Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. Dimitri: Think so? Supa: Know so. Like--know-know...so...don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just…be...specific. *He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance* ...like super specific. Dimitri: ...Specific…Wishes… Supa: Rollin'? Dimitri: *he nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat house coming from the mainstage* Supa: just kicked in? Dimitri: shaking head in agreement Yuh. Supa: Water? (She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immidiately) Dimitri: (he takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front oh him, but his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up yo see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up. Supa: spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. Dimitri: ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! He happily the DJ loops the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown S Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as Dimitri 'checks' himself, unaware of Supa's Powers. Supa: Trash. He enters his trash, after which supa immidiately collapses, as it vanishes. Dimitri: ...what was...what was that. Supa: that...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. (magic isnt real.) Oh, fuck, right. Dillon Francis (in the next dimension over) Is. Uh, Personal Space. Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" Telepathy wasn't invented at all. Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. This has been previously established. I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp so we can have this conversation--which, by the way I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, previously...established… So what's the other half of thAt...was it even an album. Is it an EP? Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ, I mean I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know--where the actual DJs...DJ. behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. ...k… Which you're not. Oh, I'm not. No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. Not a DJ. Not a DJ. Right. Not a DJ...with Magic. Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. Okay. Not-- Dillon Francis: Not ever-- Oh right, not ever both: a DJ. Dillon Francis: I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. Supa: BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. Dillon Francis: I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. Supa: So many fans. Dillon Francis: and albums. Like, tracks. Supa: Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DIllon Francis: DJ Dillon Francis Supa: Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. Dillon Francis: but you're my best fan. Supa: Best Fan! Dillon Francis: BEST FAN. SUPA: YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS: FAN CAM! SUPA ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON: THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SUPA: YEAH. (posing for a selfie. she spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo Dimitri: ...magic…? Supa: uh--no! magic, the music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah Dimitri: trash...brand...bags... Supa: ...yeah (At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--Supa readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing dimitri by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) Now, business talk time. Dimitri: serious face? Dimitri tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses. Nice Dinghy, dude. It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. She's the star of the show. Not without me. I'm it. Nah, you're just Skrillex. That's--all you need. Humility. You need it. I made the HUMBLE remix. We all know you're her favorite--and we all know she needs it. And everything age writes I lead it She lets you do that? You bought it. It wasn't me. You know what? What? I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of Everliving Skrillex is, I'll wait. My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. My left sock was 69.99 this morning. Why are you buying individual socks--and why are you buying socks in the mornings? You're up late, how are you even up in the morning? Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all. Yeah actually--I pushed Skrillex off my miniaature yacht! Youre a miniature yacht. You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really. Youre just...Dillon Francis. And you're just stranded in the ocean. And you're still just Dillon Francis. I'm ok. It's refreshing. Unlike (Fresh up out the wata __________ Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. Suhweeet planet… No! Don't land on that planet! He lands . God DAMMIT. I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time I gave is spacetime! I am time! I know you are, dear. Just be patient. Be patient? I claimed it! And the. He went and put his DILLON FRANSIS all over it. Let Dillon Francis play with your planet yeah? What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. I do know how it goes. I wrote it. How does it go? It goes--No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. No planet for Dillon Francis this isn't Dillon Francis Land, its closed. and also not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. That had a lot of heart, hun. And no Dillon Francis. Actually, it had a lot of that, too. Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not that, once I knock the not-that-hotsauce off his mini yacht knocking sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ Hey. This is a nice planet. He's gonna be like-- Like flabbergasted. Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? Yeah. Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars)] $-FREE MCFURY. ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! Cut back: Hehehe. The Skrillex Enters The Atmosphere. 'I AM SKRILLEX' _________ Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds. Three Cities Three Mainstages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! group dancing to solja boy (youuuuuuuu) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually. He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, the ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of conciousness. She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of conciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue) The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner. Guys. The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ...Shhht, quiet... The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion SupaCree shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" Guys. As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. Chak Chel (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it Chak Chel: Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time (tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Expect here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really.

america god love jesus christ time death live movies google earth moving water space hell magic reality deep nature dj food girl masters home tips fun left mind satan forever darkness jewish gods 3d boss stage humility divine run planet beyonce wars paradise happy birthday monkeys humble lol relax plays invasion b2b fuck vip egyptian guys powers imagination patterns halo prop elements bet ascension opens prophets explain plot bitch punishment infinite salt lake city roller coasters mormon greed void sol djs fat venice walks copyright edm nah sauce element billie eilish alchemy surprised bucket destroyed rolls alchemists wishes rick and morty duel aha mm heavens rave underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon morty hmmm eco blown lit hm diplo avicii sticks and stones blacklist hoes pop tarts dimitri escapes guardian angels skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god zooming yuck mmm oh my god se7en for free spirit world three times telepathy sunni father time did you know commonalities ascended masters kandi dillon francis tsh hardstyle yas neva supa personal space heh crypt keeper fuck you god complex binoculars getter no pants volts uhh aight hehehe pft annnnnd sampled psh agh exited viva mexico katey sagal rezz free water yuh befuddled space wars my future hanzel heeeeey fvck hellevator thedarkside red cups ahe gretl and nothing allison wonderland

‘Diplo Escapes From The Blacklist' -Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 8, 2022 15:43

This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ Before the initial collision... Exited for EDC? Are you serious? Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Dillon Francis? Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. Why not? This guy is awesome. *Rolls eyes* since when do you listen to EDM? I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. (She watches the video where Dillon Francis plays a backyard party) Huh. ________________ Dillon Francis arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he i ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him asking "Who the fuck is that?" Well that's because the answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Exactly. Oh, please. The Great Saltair, Salt Lake City, Utah SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted. Yikes. She looks down at her [watch/early version of the synesthesia panel] it is 7:35. Annnnnd--the night is young… She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs: She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. Dimitri: Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. Supa: Every day is rave day. Dimitri: I wish. Supa: it is. And wishes come true. Dimitri: Ugh, I wish. Supa: Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. Dimitri: Think so? Supa: Know so. Like--know-know...so...don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just…be...specific. *He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance* ...like super specific. Dimitri: ...Specific…Wishes… Supa: Rollin'? Dimitri: *he nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat house coming from the mainstage* Supa: just kicked in? Dimitri: shaking head in agreement Yuh. Supa: Water? (She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immidiately) Dimitri: (he takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front oh him, but his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up yo see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up. Supa: spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. Dimitri: ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! He happily the DJ loops the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown S Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as Dimitri 'checks' himself, unaware of Supa's Powers. Supa: Trash. He enters his trash, after which supa immidiately collapses, as it vanishes. Dimitri: ...what was...what was that. Supa: that...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. (magic isnt real.) Oh, fuck, right. Dillon Francis (in the next dimension over) Is. Uh, Personal Space. Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" Telepathy wasn't invented at all. Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. This has been previously established. I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp so we can have this conversation--which, by the way I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, previously...established… So what's the other half of thAt...was it even an album. Is it an EP? Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ, I mean I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know--where the actual DJs...DJ. behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. ...k… Which you're not. Oh, I'm not. No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. Not a DJ. Not a DJ. Right. Not a DJ...with Magic. Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. Okay. Not-- Dillon Francis: Not ever-- Oh right, not ever both: a DJ. Dillon Francis: I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. Supa: BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. Dillon Francis: I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. Supa: So many fans. Dillon Francis: and albums. Like, tracks. Supa: Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DIllon Francis: DJ Dillon Francis Supa: Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. Dillon Francis: but you're my best fan. Supa: Best Fan! Dillon Francis: BEST FAN. SUPA: YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS: FAN CAM! SUPA ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON: THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SUPA: YEAH. (posing for a selfie. she spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo Dimitri: ...magic…? Supa: uh--no! magic, the music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah Dimitri: trash...brand...bags... Supa: ...yeah (At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--Supa readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing dimitri by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) Now, business talk time. Dimitri: serious face? Dimitri tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses. Nice Dinghy, dude. It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. She's the star of the show. Not without me. I'm it. Nah, you're just Skrillex. That's--all you need. Humility. You need it. I made the HUMBLE remix. We all know you're her favorite--and we all know she needs it. And everything age writes I lead it She lets you do that? You bought it. It wasn't me. You know what? What? I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of Everliving Skrillex is, I'll wait. My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. My left sock was 69.99 this morning. Why are you buying individual socks--and why are you buying socks in the mornings? You're up late, how are you even up in the morning? Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all. Yeah actually--I pushed Skrillex off my miniaature yacht! Youre a miniature yacht. You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really. Youre just...Dillon Francis. And you're just stranded in the ocean. And you're still just Dillon Francis. I'm ok. It's refreshing. Unlike (Fresh up out the wata __________ Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. Suhweeet planet… No! Don't land on that planet! He lands . God DAMMIT. I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time I gave is spacetime! I am time! I know you are, dear. Just be patient. Be patient? I claimed it! And the. He went and put his DILLON FRANSIS all over it. Let Dillon Francis play with your planet yeah? What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. I do know how it goes. I wrote it. How does it go? It goes--No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. No planet for Dillon Francis this isn't Dillon Francis Land, its closed. and also not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. That had a lot of heart, hun. And no Dillon Francis. Actually, it had a lot of that, too. Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not that, once I knock the not-that-hotsauce off his mini yacht knocking sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ Hey. This is a nice planet. He's gonna be like-- Like flabbergasted. Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? Yeah. Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars)] $-FREE MCFURY. ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! Cut back: Hehehe. The Skrillex Enters The Atmosphere. 'I AM SKRILLEX' _________ Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds. Three Cities Three Mainstages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! group dancing to solja boy (youuuuuuuu) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually. He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, the ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of conciousness. She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of conciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue) The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner. Guys. The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ...Shhht, quiet... The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion SupaCree shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" Guys. As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. Chak Chel (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it Chak Chel: Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time (tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Expect here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision DECISION BY WHO? They fall quiet. WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed body? What genetic catastrophy allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE? WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS, ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... The Gods all react in suprise and horror, ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and it's inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) bedside ensemble in a shielded field; SupaCree senses the energy field, Which she walks into. She has awakened her conciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- (The origins) Once we send her back, she will have been three times ressurected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumeous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as fortold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkess-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosized personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SupaCree through the window. Telepathically, her very loud and dissaproving She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of the light fir quite sometime now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocraxy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darnesss, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepards and priest in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of the source light in the loss of Love, the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality, Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SupaCree appears behind him in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. "Exactly, actually--actually," SupaCree appears, Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! Time? What the fuck is time? Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- Explain it when? When you have time? He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans, I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint " Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective conciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technolocally-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of conciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infintely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting eachother in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculius lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. In rick and morty's universe: Ohhh, oh shit rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? Uhhh--Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. Oh, you mean Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… --You said "monkey" twice-- ...Space Wars… I don't know, morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, t got, uh, it got pretty deep. Flashback: Dillon Pickle Francis/ pickle rick Flashback: Hellavator Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating rick and morty/justin roiland from existence in entirety. ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from run ricky run) as it's main character. What the-- Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. --who, what? H-h-holdon-- Morty, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to it's original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. DUEL! Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! This is just, brutal-- That was just a highlight real. The boss fight is live. Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! Hanzel and Gretl are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immidiately transport attendees into the Collesium, where a furious Sonny/Skrillex and a rage-fueled SŪP∆ have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating worm holes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Raveweaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Collesium at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage Unassumingly, strolling along stage right Skrillex sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entorage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popcicles, and cupcakes...supaclassy. Dillon Francis lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omnj-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imiginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after) SŪP∆ after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She preforms various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. (MIND. BLOWN.) throughout the dimensions: AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* Dillon, from center Sees SŪP∆ seeing Skrillex, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confusious.) She's mad. Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see Skrillex seeing SŪP∆, squinting Skrillexy. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. OH GOD, NO! He morphs into Dillon glances/flances, (3) (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th Dillon Glances: I can't. Dillon Francis: You CAN. Glances: I can't. I'm not a DJ. Dillon Francis: Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. glances: Jesus. Dillon Francis: DO IT. they run off in three seperate directions: Dillon Francis runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place... Dillon Flances runs into the festivals huge and quickly growingega-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exciting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. Dillon Glances, who is not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort,( by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") , eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.)--posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks Skrillex and SŪP∆ charge towards eachother furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to eachother, radiating in fury and anger, they explode at eachother. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simoltaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. Skrillex: Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? Dillon Francis: *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS? Bampheramphs: From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars. Dillon Francis? Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ Rich As Fuck: Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. Dillon Francis: Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? Dillon Francis: Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, Dillon vanishes. What the-- BOTH: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) what are you doing here? Dillon: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? Skrillex: Why? Dillon Francis: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't WHAT Dillon Francis, blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? Giggatwats? Gooodddamn. (God is going mad from all the goddamnes goddamns, the Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.) Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. Rave… Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? Pasqualle: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. Coming in from other room. Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt thier heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simoltaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! He knows what it is; He know what it is— I know what it is; We know what it is, “So it is, then” Woah Move>< bun up the dance What happened to your blacklist Fuck the blacklist YES except Diplo, he stays. DIPLO what. Alright, moving on. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -This--soul. Yes? It is...of light? It is. And? (A concept unbeknownst the the dark and evil underlords of Satan's realm, which has expanded far beyond hell, into the upper reaches of our world, consuming in darkness everything it can.) Something else… What? Something powerful. It is...beyond words. How? That is, yet to be understood. Mmm… ________________ Before the initial collision... Exited for EDC? Are you serious? Is Dillon Francis going to be there? Dillon Francis? Yeah. DJ Dillon Francis. Uh. I don't know. And I don't care. Why not? This guy is awesome. *Rolls eyes* since when do you listen to EDM? I don't. Just Dillon Francis. He's fuckin hilarious. Look at this. (She watches the video where Dillon Francis plays a backyard party) Huh. ________________ Dillon Francis arrives through a portal onto Venice beach, just moments before SUPACREE arrives; Where he i ‘kidnapped' into an Egyptian crystal shop. What the FUCK! Dillon Francis isn't the answer to anything, even if someone is pointing at him asking "Who the fuck is that?" Well that's because the answer is "DJ Dillon Francis" Exactly. Oh, please. The Great Saltair, Salt Lake City, Utah SŪP∆ is on the lineup; she prepares for her set. She lurks down into the dancefloor, hiding in the risers, looking over the crowd to read the room. As she peers into the corner nearest to the bar, she suddenly stops, tipping down the rims of her glasses and squinting sternly, scanning over the large group...she intensely scopes a tall, and lanky brunette hunched drunkenly in the corner, one sleeve of her I'll fitting oversized jacket hanging off her shoulder unevenly. Even from afar, she looks tequila toasted. Yikes. She looks down at her [watch/early version of the synesthesia panel] it is 7:35. Annnnnd--the night is young… She peers once more into the corner, to see the girl stumbling towards the restroom sloppily, hunched shoulders and struggling to keep her oversized jacket "on", over her high waisted shorts, accompanied by black fishnets and babydoll crop top, stomping in her stupor towards the restroom. She thinks for a moment, then exits downstairs intently. Downstairs: She is greeted by one of the stagehands. They PLUR and hug. Dimitri: Heeeeey. Happy Rave Dayyy. Supa: Every day is rave day. Dimitri: I wish. Supa: it is. And wishes come true. Dimitri: Ugh, I wish. Supa: Don't waste a wish on a wish. They all come true. Dimitri: Think so? Supa: Know so. Like--know-know...so...don't wish for stupid shit; you don't know how many wishes you actually get, so just…be...specific. *He is starry eyed, gazing at her in a dreamlike trance* ...like super specific. Dimitri: ...Specific…Wishes… Supa: Rollin'? Dimitri: *he nods happily, bouncing to the upbeat house coming from the mainstage* Supa: just kicked in? Dimitri: shaking head in agreement Yuh. Supa: Water? (She produces a bottled water out of "nowhere" (the void in her energy field which manifests items most needed/useful immidiately) Dimitri: (he takes the water, amazed that she literally pulled it out of nowhere right in front oh him, but his Befuddled expression suggests curiosity that he is "tripping", which he quickly shrugs off, still bouncing happily to the music as he takes a drink (nearly the entire bottle), giving him life. (As he catches his breath, he looks up yo see a tricolor of gumstucks fanned before him, his eyes light up. Supa: spearmint, peppermint, winter fresh. Dimitri: ...ohhhh shittttt, winter fresh…! He happily the DJ loops the word "fresh", and they share a dance breakdown S Dimitri finishes his water and starts on his stick of gum. She produces a trash bag out of thin air, gesturing vanna white style, again as Dimitri 'checks' himself, unaware of Supa's Powers. Supa: Trash. He enters his trash, after which supa immidiately collapses, as it vanishes. Dimitri: ...what was...what was that. Supa: that...was...trash...magic…bags…brand...bags. (magic isnt real.) Oh, fuck, right. Dillon Francis (in the next dimension over) Is. Uh, Personal Space. Telepathy wasn't invented for "personal space" Telepathy wasn't invented at all. Exactly. It's--Magic. Hence. This has been previously established. I'm reinforcing the foundations...established...previously. Uh, Don't you have half an album to finish? Uh, Don't you have a rave frozen in an unstable time warp so we can have this conversation--which, by the way I'm pretty sure does not comply with aforementioned...reinforced foundations, previously...established… So what's the other half of thAt...was it even an album. Is it an EP? Nice view from the dancefloor, by the way, Jeez--JEEZ, I mean I guess once you get used to the view from the stage, behind--you know--where the actual DJs...DJ. behind the decks. In the DJ booth. For the DJ. ...k… Which you're not. Oh, I'm not. No. You're just...Dillusionally, probably permanently and terminally...not a DJ. Not a DJ. Not a DJ. Right. Not a DJ...with Magic. Maybe, mildly, weirdly magic--definitely not a DJ. Ever. Okay. Not-- Dillon Francis: Not ever-- Oh right, not ever both: a DJ. Dillon Francis: I'm glad you finally understand. We so, so appreciate the FANS, though. Supa: BIG fan. BIG Dillon Francis fan. Dillon Francis: I know. I have…I'm telepathic. I'm also a DJ. Like, a real DJ. With...fans. AND albums. Supa: So many fans. Dillon Francis: and albums. Like, tracks. Supa: Right. Tracks. Got That Track Magic. I just got that, fan magic. And you know, actual magic. Thanks Dillon Francis-- DIllon Francis: DJ Dillon Francis Supa: Right. DJ Dillon Francis. So many fans. Dillon Francis: but you're my best fan. Supa: Best Fan! Dillon Francis: BEST FAN. SUPA: YEAH. DILLON FRANCIS: FAN CAM! SUPA ONE FOR THE FAN GRAM! DILLON: THE *BEST* FAN GRAM. SUPA: YEAH. (posing for a selfie. she spitefully flashes him into a cross parallel dimension, outside of Bampheramph jurisdiction, trapping him in an intractable dimension; the photo Dimitri: ...magic…? Supa: uh--no! magic, the music is magic, Just trash bags...brand...yeah Dimitri: trash...brand...bags... Supa: ...yeah (At the end of the break, an immediate change of tone--Supa readjusts her outfit and hair, collecting herself in a snap--grabbing dimitri by his shoulder and pulling him closer, crouching lower into a "gameplay" position.) Now, business talk time. Dimitri: serious face? Dimitri tries to straighten up, and "get serious, still bouncing along to the beat, adjusting his sunglasses. Nice Dinghy, dude. It's...not a dinghy. It's a miniature yacht, and you're talking a lot, for someone that's more of a prop, than the dialogue. Prop. Plot device. Main character. Oh shit dude--I might even star of the show. She's the star of the show. Not without me. I'm it. Nah, you're just Skrillex. That's--all you need. Humility. You need it. I made the HUMBLE remix. We all know you're her favorite--and we all know she needs it. And everything age writes I lead it She lets you do that? You bought it. It wasn't me. You know what? What? I don't think it's good for you, If you do this movie. Movies. It's like a series. Or a saga, oh--god, I don't know. Yeah. She is. Like a God, and you're not, man. So you know...I mean… Actually heh. First of all, you tell me what the price of Everliving Skrillex is, I'll wait. My pants are currently selling for 69.99 right now. My left sock was 69.99 this morning. Why are you buying individual socks--and why are you buying socks in the mornings? You're up late, how are you even up in the morning? Do you ever sleep? Does a Skrillex sleep? Does a Dillon Francis DJ? Or wear proper fitting pants? Or do anything? Anything cool at all. Yeah actually--I pushed Skrillex off my miniaature yacht! Youre a miniature yacht. You're not a good villain. Or at anything, really. Youre just...Dillon Francis. And you're just stranded in the ocean. And you're still just Dillon Francis. I'm ok. It's refreshing. Unlike (Fresh up out the wata __________ Get off my Alien Planet! Don't touch it! It's my alien planet, nobody land on it. Suhweeet planet… No! Don't land on that planet! He lands . God DAMMIT. I can't do that. You know I can't do that. It's a whole planet just--give it time I gave is spacetime! I am time! I know you are, dear. Just be patient. Be patient? I claimed it! And the. He went and put his DILLON FRANSIS all over it. Let Dillon Francis play with your planet yeah? What?? No, can't have it, it's my planet. No. But he already put his Dillon on it, you know how that goes. I do know how it goes. I wrote it. How does it go? It goes--No--No--Dillon Francis, go home. No planet for Dillon Francis this isn't Dillon Francis Land, its closed. and also not. Your. Planet. Go. Home. That had a lot of heart, hun. And no Dillon Francis. Actually, it had a lot of that, too. Aha, well it's about to have a lot of not that, once I knock the not-that-hotsauce off his mini yacht knocking sock-rocking-planet-blocking-motherfacker!!!! RAAGGHHH…!! Whew. Did you just eat a McFury? MAYBEITWASAFUCKISDILLONFRANCISDOINGONMYPLANETSANWHICH. sounds like a lot. / Sounds Like A Mouthful. It wasn't. Ever. Never. / It's not. (Alternately) _______ Hey. This is a nice planet. He's gonna be like-- Like flabbergasted. Past Flabbergasted. Did he see you land? Yeah. Good. Lol. Did he get the coupon? --Yes. (Previously) [Dillon Lurks In The Background with the SupaCreepers (binoculars)] $-FREE MCFURY. ...oh, shit. Mm! Yeah-yeah! Cut back: Hehehe. The Skrillex Enters The Atmosphere. 'I AM SKRILLEX' _________ Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds. Three Cities Three Mainstages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! group dancing to solja boy (youuuuuuuu) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually. He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, the ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of conciousness. She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of conciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue) The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner. Guys. The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ...Shhht, quiet... The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion SupaCree shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" Guys. As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. Chak Chel (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it Chak Chel: Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time (tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Expect here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really.

america god love jesus christ time death live movies google earth moving water space hell magic reality deep nature dj food girl masters home tips fun left mind satan forever darkness jewish gods 3d boss stage humility divine run planet beyonce wars paradise happy birthday monkeys humble lol relax plays invasion b2b fuck vip egyptian guys powers imagination patterns halo prop elements bet ascension opens prophets explain plot bitch punishment infinite salt lake city roller coasters mormon greed void sol djs fat venice walks copyright edm nah sauce element billie eilish alchemy surprised bucket destroyed rolls alchemists wishes rick and morty duel aha mm heavens rave underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon morty hmmm eco blown lit hm diplo avicii sticks and stones blacklist hoes pop tarts dimitri escapes guardian angels skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god zooming yuck mmm oh my god se7en for free spirit world three times telepathy sunni father time did you know commonalities ascended masters kandi dillon francis tsh hardstyle yas neva supa personal space heh crypt keeper fuck you god complex binoculars getter no pants volts uhh aight hehehe pft annnnnd sampled psh agh exited viva mexico katey sagal rezz free water yuh befuddled space wars my future hanzel heeeeey fvck hellevator thedarkside red cups ahe gretl and nothing allison wonderland

N3W W0RLD 0RD3R.

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 2, 2022 22:00

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go here It's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone where All of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there— I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiral Look at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love you Then write of it But in spite of it all And everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—? Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress ‘Four figures is worth it,' I figured Go figure, Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infinite Invisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S— —Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it— —Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love me Come inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my pride Cause I admire you I desire you, Light my fire; I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARS Hey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE ‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same. That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel— Now comes the day my eyes will fade to grey My eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess. x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To love To love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all, One becomes of us Not then, or after— Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to God Until you are one Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits) All will fall or none All is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of here But I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morning Slowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide) I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9) Probably shouldn't be driving Probably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sip When I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me? Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laugh I'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes. Whatever. Maybe I am in costume! I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movie Sometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie. I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol. “I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like, “Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you? We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.

god california live google hollywood los angeles lost las vegas dogs hell mexico project writing heart satan night african americans divine cold myths tesla run lack dragons meat gotta lol picking relax fuck woke riding hide bet djs bite addicted whole foods ducks psyche rooms ill mecca equinox staring cough caucasians godlike ew aw shhh dammit fast forward pasquale dillon francis us bank beamer ext dtla porter robinson unh robinsons inhabitants eugh sunn ruffle nevadans take it away dkny lazers wht sonny moore allison wonderland this isn't happening

[New World Order.]

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 2, 2022 22:00

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go here It's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone where All of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there— I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiral Look at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love you Then write of it But in spite of it all And everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—? Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress ‘Four figures is worth it,' I figured Go figure, Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infinite Invisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S— —Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it— —Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love me Come inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my pride Cause I admire you I desire you, Light my fire; I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARS Hey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE ‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same. That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel— Now comes the day my eyes will fade to grey My eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess. x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To love To love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all, One becomes of us Not then, or after— Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to God Until you are one Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits) All will fall or none All is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of here But I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morning Slowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide) I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9) Probably shouldn't be driving Probably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sip When I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me? Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laugh I'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes. Whatever. Maybe I am in costume! I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movie Sometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie. I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol. “I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like, “Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you? We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.

god california live google hollywood los angeles lost las vegas dogs hell mexico project writing heart satan night african americans divine cold myths tesla run lack dragons meat gotta lol picking relax fuck woke riding hide bet djs bite addicted whole foods ducks psyche rooms new world order ill mecca equinox staring cough caucasians godlike ew aw shhh dammit fast forward pasquale dillon francis us bank beamer ext dtla porter robinson unh robinsons inhabitants eugh sunn ruffle nevadans take it away dkny lazers wht sonny moore allison wonderland this isn't happening

-New World Order.

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 2, 2022 22:00

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go here It's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone where All of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there— I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiral Look at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love you Then write of it But in spite of it all And everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—? Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress ‘Four figures is worth it,' I figured Go figure, Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infinite Invisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S— —Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it— —Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love me Come inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my pride Cause I admire you I desire you, Light my fire; I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARS Hey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE ‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same. That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel— Now comes the day my eyes will fade to grey My eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess. x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To love To love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all, One becomes of us Not then, or after— Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to God Until you are one Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits) All will fall or none All is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of here But I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morning Slowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide) I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9) Probably shouldn't be driving Probably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sip When I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me? Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laugh I'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes. Whatever. Maybe I am in costume! I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movie Sometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie. I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol. “I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like, “Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you? We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.

god california live google hollywood los angeles lost las vegas dogs hell mexico project writing heart satan night african americans divine cold myths tesla run lack dragons meat gotta lol picking relax fuck woke riding hide bet djs bite addicted whole foods ducks psyche rooms new world order ill mecca equinox staring cough caucasians godlike ew aw shhh dammit fast forward pasquale dillon francis us bank beamer ext dtla porter robinson unh robinsons inhabitants eugh sunn ruffle nevadans take it away dkny lazers wht sonny moore allison wonderland this isn't happening

NEW WORLD ORDER

Using the Whole Whale Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 2, 2022 22:00

I knew I was being watched at all times, and the more I paid attention to being watched, the less noticeable it would become. I threw up a flare in way of not caring; I ate what I wanted and ran about in an inward frenzy—yet also, in a cool, and outermost calm state. I felt already that I had lost the game; that I wasn't famous yet, and so I wouldn't or couldn't be—I had failed, and so it didn't matter what I did or didn't do. I had no one left to please, however, I couldn't seem to stop writing— and I hadn't been, really. But now, it came about again automatically as it had in the beginning. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't going to be; my feelings were justified, and they had to be, because somehow, they still existed—despite my trying to abolish them as it seemed everyone else had in the way of making and sustaining income. But I was miserable, not doing anything anywhere near what I wanted to, and wasn't making the money I needed to do anything but wake up and exist in a rather unadmirable fashion. @zaexoolin October, deadmau5 I had written galaxies of entries into The Festival Project, and it didn't seem to matter at all— I wasn't making any money from it, and now, I didn't know how to. I hadn't the time or energy to organize the Project into anything understandable to anyone other than myself, and though the whole of it was somewhat complete; if completion was attainable any, in the infinite sense and overall nature of the project itself—but it had not yet been standardized into any format which would even be moderately accepted in the writing world wirh any interest; it wasn't Hollywood formatted and didn't fit the picture for any other adaptable publication—it had its own form and while I very well understood it, it would take a decent amount of explaining to anyone my vision for the massive project. Still, the universe had a way of telling me I was selling myself short and maybe even selling my soul in the exact opposite way as anyone might have chosen to—I wasn't having any fun, experiencing the benefits of actual fame, though The Festival Project's strange cult following had become effective in making itself apparently notable, and I was literally living hand to mouth on borrowed time. Though escaping Vegas by just a hairline, and finding bits and pieces of myself scattered all across Los Ángeles, the notion of becoming homeless and out of my senses loomed over me with every colored person howling and cussing at themselves and at the world—and not that there hadn't been such in Las Vegas—in fact, there were more, as the Nevadan mental health system was far worse than California's healthcare by anyone's standard, and yet— it was more forcibly apparent that rather than by choices, the homeless of Los Ángeles were there by circumstance. Though I hated it, I was willing to work any job that would secure my independent housing, as I had learned to live with very little and stayed content in doing so; a true minimalist, I fancied not what others had as to keep up with the times, but only of things I hadn't. I wanted my own door to shut, my own bed to make—my own kitchen to cook in, and although it came at a cost, the skyrocketing rent in LA was worth it enough, equated to the energy alone in the city. I wasn't anytime soon going to Mexico without a decent amount of money, and more than probably wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a commission-only job enough to secure a space in LA—but I knew something was coming. After all, there was a coughing demon following me everywhere I went, and so I thought myself to be a pretty important obsession in someone else's mind to put out such a terrible force of energy. It didn't seem to matter much, anything, actually—I wasn't doing anything I wanted, I wasn't getting what I needed, and I was harder working than anyone I met at all. The end of my life could be any day at any time, and so I became reckless in the aftermath of having lost all that I had ever loved. R E C K L E S S Los Ángeles What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey Oh. I didn't know you go hereIt's below zero where I'm from Cold as the stone you were under, That went unturned until Suddenly, I was at home dear, All alone whereAll of a sudden you know me; No, Let's not go there—I was in the clear, I was in the clear I was in the air, with you I was in a dream, and then Woke up to care for you Staring at the wall In a cold sweat Oh, there you are again I didn't know you go here Hello, dear Better prepare the proper paperwork Better prepare the proper paperwork Better wear the proper attire; You're said to inspire the choir In your downward spiralLook at my eyes Look at my eyes Look at my eyes, when I lie to you That's just the life of a writer; Live and we die just to love youThen write of itBut in spite of it allAnd everything I stand for; Coming this fall: I could fall for you What if I took my heart out? | | | You'd love the taste of my blood, With a Bite of the lip, and a twist of the tongue Pull me under, No wonder— Catch more flies with honey —Shhh. The brim of my hat, on a pole Where do I get off writing stories? Where do I get off—?Ah Where do I get my glory? Give me my roses, I'm horny Give me more, Moses; I've had it up to here with this nonsense Divine nonchalance and omnipotence God, this is potent You poisoned my apple with acid, I know it Alone in a fortress‘Four figures is worth it,'I figured Go figure,Addicted to light fixtures, forged as robotix I hope to God i get off of this rocket as polished and Godlike as Ali But nobody gets it, but me and my daughter Who doesn't exist yet Or did, And we're simply reliving the story Instead of just Writing it Riding the bus to the end of the infiniteInvisible Infidelity, hell is embellished with heavenly decoratives and eloquent expletives Where the hell is my stop, anyway I stopped paying attention Where the Hell do I get off? —for S——Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup!!! Watch this Ugh Get it? Stop it, Satan. Stop what? Come on. Stop following me. You like it——Sometimes it's funny. You're very quick. Could be quicker. I could give you this whole damn city, if you want it. It's already mine. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone else knew it too? Nobody has to know. Oh, but you'd like that. I'd like a lot of things. But not love? What is that? You tell me. Name your price. Are you serious!? How's the weather? I want to make a baby Dhow me that you love meCome inside me, then divide me Bring the joy into my prideCause I admire youI desire you, Light my fire;I exist to inspire you Dammit. Dammit. —down girl. I told you I'm going to put that dragon to sleep. I'll put it to sleep. Dragons don't sleep! That's a myth! Dragons are a myth! Myths are a myth. If you land that ship here I'm going to make you pay for parking by the minute. Alright. How much? Half a million. Deal. SUPACREE has officially and permanently hijacked Dillon Francis. Where is Dillon Francis? I told you it was cold up here. Don't look at me! Oh what's wrong EVERYTHING. Whats going to happen here? Anything that can. No no! Do t touch it! It's a Tesla! What?! Last year I saw you take a baseball bat to a fucking Beamer! It was Boston! ?! They love baseball Watch this: Satan. I told you— —I wasn't listening. I can be anywhere you are. The US Bank building was indeed high enough to kill you from jumping off of it; I couldn't stop thinking about it, as I stood by the base of it, actually across the street at the library, which I for some reason, had somehow considered as my own. -TAZER- Oh shit. Oh shit. -TAZER- -TAZER- -TAZER- —WOOOOOOOOOO!!! YOU'RE SICK. I love it! One more! WHAT! ONE MORE. (This part is important.) HIT ME BABY, one more time! BRITTNEY SPEARSHey, shut the fuck up, okay—my kids watch this show! WOOOOOOOOOO. This is nuts. This is out of control. That's a lot of— —Lazers! —Cough syrup. Oh, yeah it is. Wish. what?! Already?! Whats your first wish?! I'm not done yet You have to be— There's a limit?! WISH. OKay, OKAY!! I wish— Oh shit, here she goes. Hide! Ugh! Noorotic, Redman NEW DJ UNLOCKED/ Q-Beet “Q-BEET IS GOD. “ Ok. I had just that very morning imagined myself quitting my shitty job, trading in my business professional clothes for something, anything else—and just finally, once again—being Sunnï Blū. In pondering, looking over my polished and professional appearance, in a collared faux-pearl dress and DKNY boots I actually liked…but it didn't at all feel like me. And while Sunnï Blū also wasn't me, and merely just a character I had created and ended up quite by accident somehow method acting by solid definition—it was still an entirely more enthralling existence, as the character I had created had indeed come into a life of its own and become nothing at all of how I had first imagined, but somehow even better. ‘What would Sunnï Blū even wear?' I had asked myself, probably even too loudly, so much so that the universe with full-throttle intention did respond, in an excitingly timely manner. EXT. WHERE MONSTERS DREAM, DTLA. DAY Oh I love this part. GOOGLE‘What does Sunnï Blū Wear?' oh my god. what is this. i love it. #lilbitz LA is some shit. Some people in LA are too rich. You're so rich, I can't look at you. You're so rich, you make my eyes hurt. What are you even wearing? lacoste-too-much. Durh. EXT. DTLA FASHION DISTRICT. DAY ‘Can you believe Porter Robinson invented trance? I thought almost too deeply about it for a moment, trying to understand where in my own multidimensionality I was, or where he was, in the grand scheme of things. POOOR-TER ROBINSON. POOR-TER ROBINSON. -lil B. Yes, actually, I do believe that. I could believe that. I invented trance! Uh huh. I am I! Oh shit. I am Porter Robinson. PORTER ROBINSON. Check out my band: Porter and the Robinsons. Yessir. Anywho. The smell of eucalyptus filled my nostrils; someone behind me was annointing themselves with the oil and it sparked up a fire in my brain; I had been trying to become a member of Equinox fitness for years, and had almost always fallen short just in funding, and though something was telling me I would be coming into some sort of money somehow, I was again falling short—it was almost impossible for me to arrive anywhere on time anywhere I didn't want to be; and I didn't like my new job as much as I thought I needed it… Sonny Moore died of a broken heat; I survived him, but I never was the same.That was they day my eyes had turned go hazel—Now comes the day my eyes will fade to greyMy eyes will fade to grey. ‘Ugh.' Rooms>< anything I was almost certain at one point or another that— Fuck this—there's a glitch in the matrix! (I thought this was an article on the secret love affair between Allison Wonderland and Dillon Francis!) ((That's not a secret!)) This is impossible. What am I looking at. (Yes, please try to explain to yourself how this is happening.) (this isn't happeninG.) THIS ISNT REAL —-MWJAY TJE FJCU—- WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT (Hush, please, before you send up a sign.) There's a signal. Let's go. Let's go?' Where?! To the planet. To which—planet?! The one with the: ‘—THIS ISN'T HAPPENING— ‘ (now you've done it.) You really sold you soul for this? What'd you sell yours for? Same as you, I guess.x__x God is in the shadows, And yet I rise above, Just to illuminate the picturesque, The life that all of us have left to share To live To loveTo love one another To love one another I judge not a mother, Nor pity a father; I honor them Once and for all,One becomes of us Not then, or after—Now, Right where we are, Under the stars, Or drawing them; A wish becomes a prayer to GodUntil you are oneLost wanderers talk in tonguesLost wanderers talk in tongues Lost wanderers talk in tongues, The prophets (Of The profits)All will fall or noneAll is fair in love, But one must fall, First I smell winter in the air. ‘It has to be a dummy company' , I thought. ‘A front for something. ‘ If I was being set up to fail, there were some broad strikes being taken—but still, I wasn't all the way fooled; something seemed off, and If at the very least I was watching my dreams shatter around me, at least I was doing it in Los Angeles against the backdrop of this historic LA skyline on this iconic coastal Mecca, rather than Vegas's dry and unforgiving desert, which for the most part was also littered with homeless, mentally Ill and unbathed Inhabitants—however, strange and bizzare as it seemed, it was as if Los Angeles had less of them. I sat out in on the Whole Foods patio at 8th and grand, which I had never done and somehow also remembered doing, and though temping, the skinny black girl who stopped herself in front of me just to take a sip of her kombucha wouldn't persuade me to start doingso; in fact, I was in a tailspin—very much so in a panic, such that I was actually eating midday, rather than the end of it. The job I had just started seemed a sham, and though there had initially been something that excited me about it, after being late my first day, I almost believed myself to be in a realm where I was doomed to fail, or stuck in a loop as I had been all the rest of my life; then l, it could have been the fact that I was carrying documents with my old name on them—which I had theorized allowed whoever such was practicing black magic against that name to continue doing so successfully. The passport office had apparently ‘made an error' with my documents, and so had delayed me at least by a day or two from completely shedding any remnince of her, to which I would to happy to forget entirely, and—though somewhere in the pit of my heart that I could no longer speak to anyone from my last, pretending for the time being that it didn't exist and was safer; it had to have been narrowed down to two perpetrators for the dark and awful magic that was being used against me, always there but less present when actually dealing with her belongings, family, or friends—and while it may have been her ex husband who forced her to suicide, it may well have been coughs, the photographer for no other reason than love and love alone, in any facet. A fit man with an attractive tattoo seated himself in front of me; I could tell he was attractive, and thought it best to keep him headless rightly so. Today, all the white girls were evil again, but really they always were, and it was me who just cared to notice them—they just needed attention, and didn't seem to do much other than try to get it—not that they had to try. I had learned that I didn't hate them—however, that we lived in different worlds. They couldn't understand me, or find me as attractive as they thought themselves, and their Caucasian male counterparts were trained for the most part not to find African American features as beautiful, scientifically, I had learned. And, while my heart was forgiving, my soul still crept up just to wince at every reflection of ‘ugly' anyone I might have thought to be attractive thought that I was. Sonny Moore is like candy.. …I really want it, but it's definitely not good for me. Good, go on. lol I do have a sweet tooth. Eugh! So then, what does that make Dillon Francis. MEAT. Ew, gross. …I could eat it, but I probably wouldn't feel very good afterwards. Daww. All I need is a DAW And a Dog; And a friend, And a hug, And a car, And a bed— And you out of my head Cause I gotta get I gotta get I gotta get it all on my own, you know And I gotta get out of hereBut I owe you for something I know it I'll take out a loan In the morningSlowly but surely, Slowly but surely Slowly but surely I'm waking up Run just to run (Gotta run, gotta hide)I'm picking you up (I'm picking you up at 9)Probably shouldn't be drivingProbably shouldn't be driving On all this wine; Took my first sipWhen I saw you weren't mine, but now I'm Picking you up Picking you up at 9 All I need is your arms, And some love, Some songs, And a hug And a road, And a room to go to with you, PAUSE oh shit. I never seen tiesto before. What? Why not?! Cause fuck tiesto. Anyways “Happy birthday tiesto!!!!” Wait, is that his name?! Yeah that's his name! Like his actual name?! I don't know! What the Fuck! Might be worth knowing. I doubt that. His wife is younger than me! Well, good news is, you're getting older. Okay— Wow! This song IS red! Red music for the win. Red music is balls! What! She's from another realm. — MA. What, Jeff. It's excision. What did you say? My name's excision. Sure it is. Ma. What, Jeff. I made a new song. Of course you did. Wanna hear it? Not before breakfast. But it's past noon. So it is— Can I play it? No. What. Why not. I still haven't had breakfast. FAST FORWARD. NO. UNH. Oh, GOD. What? Don't look at me… No Exsision on an empty stomach. Okay. I SAID— SUPACREE Oh, I get it. This shit smacks. ///UNH. Literally, sometimes— Owie… But you know what? I had a good run. Okay. When do we get the rest of the DJs? Huh? Okay, who wants in? *literally nobody raises a hand* Okay, I'll go. Are you serious? Serious as a heart attack. THAT'S how you got in? Heart attacks are a sure-bet! But no! Well then, what happened? Someone broke his heart. Aw, shit. DONT LOOK AT ME. Aw, fucksauce. Nice Nikes. Wanna fight me?Do you like me? I'll give you a black eye; Yikes Three stripes me, I'm a zebra, no white, see? Psyche — #lilbitz I love LA. Sometimes I can't tell if people are wearing costumes or if that's like—their—themselves. Like their true selves. I can't tell. And it's okay. It's really okay. Cause sometimes I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm like— Fuck. Who is this guy? Yeah. Or I just laughI'm like *laughs* “You idiot” But it's whatever! That's my true self. Sometimes.Whatever. Maybe I am in costume!I don't know. Sometimes, I think I'm in a movieSometimes, people come up and tell me I'm in a movie.I'm like “oh no! Whose the main character” Lol.“I better get out of their way!” Haha or I'm like,“Yeah, I'm definitely the villain; get the fuck away from me.” But no. I love LA. I'm at the gym— I saw this dude in faded blue jeans, a jersey, some socks, and some Nike slides. I'm like yeah, I'm home. I'm home. Then I go to get a second look at him and he's got rhinestone facial piercings, I'm like. “Yup.” Fuck. I love LA. And they were oddly placed, at that. He had like, his eye wrinkles and second-dimples pierced Like—who has two sets of dimples, anyway?! LA people. Bet. — ALRIGHT DEADMAU5—TAKE IT AWAY. What? No literally. Take away all the deadmau5. What, you can't do that! But I can. — I love deadmau5. Beepbeepboop. Probably more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Way more than I should. Beepbeepboop. Beepboop. — Yo. Yo. Whatever happened to Pasquale? ? What happened to Pasquale? ? What even originally happened to Pasquale? Let's find out. —NO—NOT THE TIME MACHINE AGAIN. Relax. I WILL NOT RELAX. Relaaaaaax… I WILL NOT RELA— —AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Ducks. What the— I told you. DONT DUCK WITH TIME — The thing I knew about Sonny was, I was never going to run into him in public; he was too famous, and too recognizable—and so I didn't have to worry—though, he was always in my mind somewhere, if not in the corner of my eye or somewhere over my shoulder—something like a dry cough that never went away. Might as well have been. — have you ever heard of a blood oath?! No—because they're secret. Turns out that building with my emblem on top is the Los Angeles public library. What a coincidence! No it isn't. I was being facetious. Wow. That should be a spelling bee word. I'm sure it has been. — I got my back up against the wall Why'd I fall for you?We got al the same problems Lack of endorphins, The wrong—a lot of things Maybe nothings wrong with God, after all Fuck, gotta love androgyny. . . . This just got weird. Like it wasn't weird before? No, it's really weird now. WHt is this!! Oh my god! WHAT IS THIS. I don't know. HOW'D THEY DO THIS? Who is “they”? WHOOOIII DID THIS?! Ruffle your feathers a bit? EXT. SOMETHING POETIC. NIGHT for fuck's sake. ffs. Fuck.

Pooh & Public Domain Creative Opportunities | MarketingArtfully.com

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 21, 2022 56:06

The copyright on Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne officially moved into the public domain this year. What does that actually mean? How might nonprofit's use public domain characters like this to help tell their story? Tara Jacobson is the owner of MarketingArtfully.com with over 20 years experience in the marketing industry. She helps us break down what is possible and comes up with creative ways nonprofit causes might use the IP. Resource links A lot of websites were shared on this awesome episode, here are the URLs mentioned. Creative Commons Trademark/Copyright search TESS RedBubble.com https://creativemarket.com/ https://morguefile.com/ https://fiverr.com Canva.com Openai.com Public Domain Story List MarketingArtfully.com https://artsyfartsylife.com/ About Tara Jacobson Tara Jacobson is the owner of MarketingArtfully.com with over 20 years experience in the marketing industry which translates into highly successful marketing systems for her “DIY” and entrepreneur clients. Tara's strong history in Psychology, Entrepreneurship, and Creativity, combined with her 100 miles per hour, “tell it like it is” personality have earned her the title “The Queen of Marketing Ahhh's” from her raving fans. Tara brings a true small and medium sized business perspective to her work. She has talked with over 1,000 small biz owners about their goals, plans and dreams, helping them to grow and make sure that their marketing increases their intended efforts! Rough Transcript [00:00:00] George: We have a very interesting guest who is, I'll just say it very brave because she is coming in because I reached out to her completely cold, like completely cold. I'm sitting there looking up information about creative ways of using public domain characters and works and none other than marketing, artfully.com. [00:00:50] And then I reached out to the owner and Tara Jacobson was nice enough as the owner of marketing, fully marketing artfully com. She has over 20 years experience in the marketing industry, but is, I would say coming at this as an outsider to the nonprofit and social impact industry in her work with over thousands of small and mid-size businesses and in this world. [00:01:13] Tara, can you tell us maybe a bit more about your work and what. [00:01:18] Tara: So I started internet marketing and making websites with like dream Weaver and all of that back in the day. Merge two, I was a realtor for a couple of years. That was interesting. And then I owned a marketing company for years and one of the reasons why I got so interested in. [00:01:37] More so trademark and copyright and later on, interested in public domain is because it's I believe it's $600. You get fined as a business. If you use somebody's copyrighted or trademarked work and it's $10,000, if you do it for a client. So I was like, I have always bought every picture I've ever owned. [00:02:04] I've always had. Oh shoot. What it was called, where the domain of where you got your things and yeah. You sourced the information and yeah that to me was super important years ago when I was posting things for people, making social media graphics, things like that. [00:02:23] And I got really interested in it. So we're gonna talk today. I'm gonna give you a little course in all of the D. Terms that are gonna come up. And then I love that we're gonna brainstorm some ways that nonprofits can use 'em the only nonprofit I've ever been involved in was the Colorado house rabbit society. [00:02:49] I do have a blog post on my website about how to get volunteers, cuz they were really bad at it. And so I did I did write them a blog post on how to get volunteers, but I haven't worked tons with nonprofits, but I've worked with all kinds of businesses over the years, small businesses and medium size SSEs and small business. [00:03:13] George: Yeah. And I think that's helpful context too, to say, like what's at stake. Why do I care about this on one end? There's the penalty side, which is frankly, not as much fun as the creative, which we'll get to, but I'll just say from personal experience, we had interns writing content at whole whale. [00:03:32] Seven years ago, I get this email from it's like a take down notice, but also basically we used like a picture of a squirrel with some nuts that somebody just Google. Just Google the image and the content really wasn't used at all. And we got fined. I will say I, I can't officially say, but it is in the thousands of dollars for a picture, an intern put on our website like a decade ago. [00:03:57] Like it's very real what you're talking about and very painful. So I think your note, I'll just put an exclamation point on. It's worth checking because the algorithms that people have for quickly searching and scanning websites have improved for scanning for this type of copyrighted work, all righty onto you. [00:04:17] What, and there's [00:04:18] Tara: so much available for free or a very little money. I'm gonna explain the difference, how you get super free stuff, and then how you get like really tiny money. And to me, tiny money is under $10. Maybe not under $300, I'm talking tiny money. So we're gonna start off by talking about what trademark is. [00:04:47] So trademark gets talked about a lot and trademark is just the words. So you, so Nike's swoosh. The picture of it is copyrighted because it's an image, but the word just do it is trademarked and you can't use those kind of terms. What you're talking about with the creative and the marketing, and maybe pictures for blogs and maybe pictures for things to sell or images for things to sell. [00:05:17] Is called copyright because copyright covers artistic things like pictures poems, books, things like that. And things come out of copyright. I looked it up after 70 years. So things before 1924 are in the public domain right now. And something super exciting came into the public domain this year, which was the original poo bear. [00:05:46] And [00:05:47] George: all the characters, right? So everything from the mil books are public domain. [00:05:53] Tara: Yeah. And there's illustrations of P bear and EOR and the hundred acre words and things like that, that people truly have a heartfelt connection to. So if you're talking about doing something that is going to help a nonprofit, you're not looking for something that's going to. [00:06:16] Be mercenary or something like that. You want something that people can go back to their childhood and think, oh my gosh, it's poo bear. I love poo. And there's a whole list of and you can put a link on it. I have a whole list on my website of stories that are in the public. So Rapunzel, Rapunzel it down. [00:06:47] Your hair is in the public domain. So that is something that people can use. Oh, we have to talk about public domain too. But that is a story that people can use. What they can't use is tangled. Tangled is the dignified version of. Yeah, Rapunzel, let down my hair. So what you wanna do is you wanna make sure that anything you're looking to use, there's a database. [00:07:19] It's the PT, PTO database. It's called test T E S S. If you just search test on. Google, they have a way to search for it. And you put in only look for live ones. So if you look for live and dead ones, then you're gonna get a lot. But we only care about the ones that are live right now. And so you can find out if something is in the public domain is a avail, is copyrighted or not. [00:07:46] Now public domain is way more just than things that have gone on a copyright or that aren't trademarked. There are things called creative commons where an artist or a writer or people like that will take their items and file them as creative commons. Now you want what's called creative commons. Oh zero zero. [00:08:12] And that means they hold no They don't have any license on it. Where if it's just like a plain creative comments, a lot of times they'll exclude a commercial license, even though you're a nonprofit, if you're selling something commercially, that would be violating the terms of that license. And you can find all kinds of things doing that search for pictures, for your website, for things like that. [00:08:38] Now there are places that say they. Creative commons things like morgue file has a lot of pictures on it. It's just one of the places. And, but they don't have a vetting process. They rely on the people, uploading the pictures to do it. So we're gonna talk for just a wee minute about why sometimes it's better to purchase it than not. [00:09:05] Okay. Even if you're using something that's in the public domain. So we're gonna talk about poo. Because I love him and absolutely but you could go, you could grab a book off the shelf. You could download that you could scan that image. You could fix all of the little problems with a graphic. [00:09:29] Program like Photoshop and make sure it's in the proper condition to use on a t-shirt or use on postcards or things like that. Or you can go to a place like creative market where somebody has already done that for you. Like an artist has already done all those steps. And you buy it with a commercial license. [00:09:52] Usually they're about $11, I think, to get like a set of P bear images. Alison Wonderland is in the public domain. So you can use Alison Wonderland. Now they have, somebody has trademarked Allison Wonderland on t-shirts. So you still, even if it's in the public domain, you always wanna go check the trademark database. [00:10:14] It's not, there's no like blanket, these are all safe and these are not all safe. You always wanna go and check. So does, [00:10:22] George: so the trademark database, what does that look like? Is that tests or is that a different that's test? Yeah, no [00:10:27] Tara: that's tests and all you do is you put you put in Alison Wonderland in tests and click live and click search, and then it'll show you what category of things are. [00:10:42] Ex like you have to exclude. So say it says t-shirt clothing. I can't remember what's all in that category, but you could make greeting cards. Nobody's trademarked that for greeting cards. So that's why you wanna check. So even if you think, oh my gosh, Allison wonderlands gone. It doesn't mean it is. [00:11:04] If you're not using it on the thing, they've trademarked it for. And I have such a good example that I looked up for you. So the word elf. Is trademark for lighters, photography, backdrop, and amplifiers three different categories. You can't use it for that. But as of right now, if you wanted to use it on a t-shirt you be, it's not just the, you're gonna put a picture of an L on a t-shirt and you're and for nonprofits, you may be able to avoid some of these problems, because you're functionally selling. to your constituents rather than as much trying to sell internationally. Sometimes you may wanna sell internationally, but if you're doing a fundraiser internally and you're not gonna be advertising it online or in a huge way, then you may be able to get away with it. [00:12:08] If they do send you a cease desist, then you have made commercial money on it though they can claw back that money. So it's worth looking. [00:12:16] George: Yeah this complicates it a bit more because prior to even you saying that, I just assumed if it's in the public domain, I'm looking at a picture of Winnie the poo. [00:12:26] Somebody could have trademarked that on a t-shirt. So I'm like, oh, I can spin up my t-shirts with Winnie the poo on it. [00:12:32] Tara: No, they can't trademark the picture of Winnie the poo they could tra they could, and they can't copyright it because the copyright belongs to AA. So Uhuh, the original artwork is in the public domain. [00:12:49] What they could do is, and it would take 'em a while to do it, cuz they have to show the first time the trademark, the word was used in the public and then they have to pay money to get it. It's about 12, $1,200 to get the trademark and then they have to go through a whole process where it's vet. So you and they won't go backwards. So if you were to sell a Winnie, the POH says, Winnie the poo, it's the poo bear old P bear you're done. And in two years, somebody trademarks Winnie the poo and you had used it. They don't go backwards. Does that [00:13:26] George: help at all? You know what it helps with reminding folks that just because it's on that list, you should double check the database, especially if you're going to put marketing power behind it, putting it on products and as you go to use it, but. [00:13:40] Again, though, is a massive shopping list because there are some edge cases maybe you can't put poo on a lighter, but [00:13:50] Tara: no, you can't put, you can't put an El on a lighter [00:13:53] George: I know let's get your, let's get it straight. Elves, not okay. Poo, like we'll just memorize whole thing. Poo's good. He's good to go on a lighter. [00:14:00] There's that huge the movie's coming out, right? They did a horror movie with Winnie the. Can drop this season because you can do [00:14:12] Tara: that. You can do that now. And so all of these amazing things that people, and it's not even just, so Walt Disney was brilliant. He took over so many fairy tales. [00:14:31] Yeah. And stole them for him. There is a real beauty and the beast story that is an old fable from like, When the black plague was around that he then made specific. Now you can do all kinds of things with beauty and the beast. You just can't do the bell in the yellow there iconography, right? [00:14:58] Yeah. Okay. And then spec. So that's from both the old movie and the new movie, and then you can't do, and then you can, but there's so many things you can do. Like sleeping. Beauty is you can say sleeping beauty. He doesn't own sleeping beauty. He owns Aurora because that wasn't the name of the original sleeping beauty. [00:15:22] It was. Sister. And so he picked that one. So then you wanna really try, I do know a lot about this. You wanna try to make sure that something isn't copyrighted or trademarked before you use it and just BEC and do not go to Etsy, do not go to anywhere and do a search and think, oh, look, this is all over Etsy. [00:15:46] It must be okay. That's not how the world works. [00:15:50] George: Yeah, you're really talking about the original, like name of the character as presented essentially in the trademark language, in the copyright public domain and the images I'm looking through your piece on Allison Wonderland. You may have that image of Allison, a blue dress and the the mad hat, or it is a very different look, frankly, but it's still recognizable as the charact. [00:16:16] but it doesn't necessarily have that immediate brand recognition that essentially that's a Disney version Disney, it Disney it. But right now, for instance there's two movies about pinoc one on, I think Netflix and one on Disney as a rerelease guess what, that's another story similar to, as you just mentioned beauty and the beast that you [00:16:35] Tara: can run with. [00:16:36] Yeah, there are so many things. And oh and they're really mad about this, but I think in the next year it might be next year, Nikki's coming [00:16:45] George: to town. [00:16:47] Tara: Old Mickey, like really old Mickey. Oh, G Mickey. Yeah. OG Mickey is coming out of copyright. And so that's, what's fun about it to me. Like I, I make stuff for now I make artwork. [00:17:03] I'm an artist now. And I make artwork. So I made my own version of the mad hatch actress who does not look like Johnny Depp. It doesn't look like Disney's version. She's a woman in a hat and the original Alison Wonderland had that 10 and 10, six thing in her hat. And so she's very recognizable as Alison Wonderland, as the Matt had her from Allison Wonderland, but she's a feminist version. [00:17:41] George: So now we get into maybe some of that creative elements, unless there's some more guardrails you wanna toss [00:17:45] Tara: out for folks. Nope. I think if you've gotten this far and you have all of the warnings [00:17:51] George: you really made them take their vegetables first, right? Amen. Vegetables and vitamins first. So you can riff on them. [00:18:00] You can take this original concept and riff on it. Can I just maybe up to a thou 3000. Explain to me what are the advantages of using a character that has this recognition [00:18:14] Tara: already? Okay. So the reason why there is copyright and trademark is because it would be so much easier to sell a Alison Wonderland. [00:18:30] Queen of hearts mug. If it looked just like Disney's right, people have already paid money to go to the Disney movie. They've already paid to go to Disney world. Walt Disney has already done the work to make people want to like that. And so it's unfair if you think, oh, I wanna do something with transformers because there's good brand recognition. [00:18:58] The reason why you wanna do it is because there's good brand recognition right now. The reason we now I wanna I'll give you my Madha example. The reason I wanna do a Madris is I can use all the words except for Alice in wonder. So mad Hatter, isn't trademarked tea party. We are all mad here. [00:19:23] All of those things are not trademarked, so I can make a mad Hatter shirt with we're all mad here and I can market it in a way that it will be able to get found by a portion of the population that's interested in the Alice Wonderland story. That's why I wanna make a bad hatch actress, because I know that there are people that already resonate with that character, whether it was the Disney character or whether they read Allison Wonderland in their childhood, or whether they saw Johnny DEP any which way they have a feeling towards that character. [00:20:00] And I can use that to help sell my stuff. [00:20:04] George: Gotcha. So you're shopping for. These characters in part because of this. And I wanna come back to the value that you are essentially borrowing for free. Think about the amount of attention it took to bring that character to millions of people. How much would that have cost for you to do the same? [00:20:24] Now you then, because of that attention, as I understand it, there's recognition. Oh, I see that. I grew up with that. I was read that. And then with recognition, you then can play with the affinity, which by the way, can be positive and negative. There are often villains in here as well, but you then can immediately start on page five instead of page one. [00:20:45] And then it sounds add your flavor of brand message, even advocacy. Does that sound right? [00:20:53] Tara: Yeah. Exactly. So gimme an idea of one of your nonprofits. [00:20:58] George: Oh gosh. We have a lot of animal welfare organizations I'd say interested in preserving and saving and protecting lands. [00:21:07] Tara: Okay. So animal welfare makes me think of the big Wildcat organization when I was in Colorado. [00:21:14] Which makes me think of the cowardly lion and they could use the cowardly lion, the original Frank bomb, cowardly lion, which is in I'm 95. Yeah. It's in the public domain and do something with the cowardly lion that matches their the way their nonprofit is set up and who it's serving animals, right? [00:21:43] Yes. And so if the Wildcat sanctuary already knows their people love big cats, and now they're giving them the cowardly lion with that affinity to not the movie, the book. And that character, but you can still use cowardly lion and all that comes with it. And all the heartstrings that come with it, then all of a sudden you have a target market group. [00:22:10] That's already predisposed to like it and buy it at a higher price because they don't really care. They know the profit's going to. The animal rescue group, they know that this is something that they're gonna love and cherish because it helped their thing, but they also enjoy wearing it. And in wearing it now they're promoting the animal rescue group. [00:22:32] So there's like this amazing circle of wonderfulness. [00:22:37] George: Yeah. I thought you were gonna go with Tigger, but you threw me a curve ball. I maybe have gone with You could ERs and saving Tiggers because he is a character inside of winning the poop. Now [00:22:49] Tara: you there's once you start brains but think about that, you and I went to two totally different things that are both actually big cats that could help an annual animal rescue. [00:23:02] So say you rescue turtles. You wanna find. Maybe I, and don't take, don't quote me on this, but maybe the wind in the willows is in the public domain, the original book, and there's a fun turtle in there. Or those are the kind of things you wanna try to figure out how you can mono, how you can really use their. [00:23:24] Brand recognition to make your customers who are your donors, more willing to buy something and not only buy it because that doesn't help as much. If they're not wearing it and helping spread your message. [00:23:38] George: I wanna pull the thread a bit more because immediately you talk about merchandise. And I imagine if I were to drop you into many sort of after thoughts of we'll call it a Shopify or a Spreadshirt or a very cafe press talking about we put our logo on a shirt, so our. [00:23:55] Audience can go get it. It's an afterthought. It's not the forefront. Can you explain very quickly, like when you look at the opportunity of petsy or putting imagery on a shirt, is there money there? What does that look like in your [00:24:08] Tara: world? Okay. So for a nonprofit, specifically, not in my world, because in my world, I'm an artist now, but for a nonprofit number one, I would suggest they use red bubble. [00:24:21] It is incredibly simple. You do not pay a dime to list any of the products. And as a nonprofit, you make this say, you say, and you don't have the, you don't have anybody on staff with the ability to make what you need. Number one, you can go to creative market right now and they have there's a gal on there that does dark Alice. [00:24:53] There's all kinds like pink, Alice and dark Alice and you can just buy a graphic. That's already ready to drop on a t-shirt for 12 bucks or 20 bucks. So you've bought the right to use that on a t-shirt and then you can put words on the top words on the bottom, wor you know, the name of your charity on the back. [00:25:17] And if your people do not have the ability to do that, you can go to a place like fiber, which is F I V E R r.com. And give them the graphics that you wanna use that you've paid for. Don't rely on them to get the graphics because you want to control the fact that you have purchased commercial rights to use this. [00:25:43] Ask them to make you a t-shirt and they'll make you a t-shirt for 20 bucks. [00:25:50] George: So the, then the creation of it. So how do you set up a shop? What do you point people to set up your shop for red bubble? And you can set up a custom shop with my nonprofit and I get some graphics that just frankly, go beyond here's our logo. [00:26:04] We [00:26:04] Tara: did. Oh, gosh no. You could put your logo graphics on there. You could like that could, and you could even make it cute. Okay. So if I had at least the I, okay. Let's not as cute as the WWF, cuz they have a super cute logo, but say you just have a word logo, right? Yeah. You could take and put a Christmas hat on it for Christmas and then they would have to buy it for Christmas and you could put some Mardi Bo beads hanging on it or put some shamrocks on it. [00:26:38] For I was gonna say the 4th of July, but for St. Patrick's day. And you could do all kinds of things. If you just wanna tart up your logo and then yes, other people in the world could buy it, but primarily you're gonna be driving the people who already like you. To that place so they can buy things. You can buy stickers, you can buy blankets, you can buy. [00:27:03] And all you do is you upload your thing once, and then they put it on all that stuff, if you want. [00:27:09] George: And it's on demand creation and shipping, and it's all handled for you. But I think getting back to our ideation, let me give you another another type of organization, and this is gonna be tough, but you asked for it. [00:27:20] We've got. Cancer related organizations interested in awareness for let's say lung cancer or colorectal cancer. So what types of I see her smile. You can't see, dude. I'll narrate, she's laughing and smiling. She has an idea. All right. What do you well for the call I'm way, ER, than nonprofits, right? [00:27:46] Tara: That's okay. So for the colorectal one, I would go with but why didn't you get your test with somebody's butt and not saying B U T, but B UT, but why did but implying that everything's about a butt, right? Colorectal cancer. It's your butt. I like your job. [00:28:07] That's the kind of thing that you have to get out of your own way and figure out something cute with a marketing hook that is going to to be interesting to people, to buy cards, to buy. [00:28:27] So what, so if you're [00:28:28] George: not, I would've gone wizard of Oz with this one, like a behind the curtain, or like a wizard behind the curtain or a. Maybe a 10 man or something like I have no heart. All right. Like maybe I guess in my mind went there. [00:28:41] Tara: I'm not done with this yet. [00:28:43] George: Oh, hold on. Keep cooking. [00:28:45] Tara: So for the lung cancer I would and you can do this on fiber, or you can ask if anybody's an AR is artistic in your group, get longs and have them painted with. Have them painted with some kind of PA cute pattern. So have some artist make lungs look pretty. And then that's going to be something that people already sorry about the rustling. [00:29:18] People already want to support this, but if there's a beautiful set of lungs and you can put that on something on a card, on a whatever. So if you aren't looking for products, I guess I'm just stuck in the products right now. What were you looking to use public domain stuff. So I can give you better examples [00:29:42] George: then. [00:29:42] Yeah. Moving out of the product land. I would say it's the process I'm imagining is shopping through a, Winnie the poo in all the characters, and then saying what type of graphics could we use in our website, art blog posts, social media, mini campaigns that might be around fundraisers and that type of use where it's just it's the ability to have an immediate, as I mentioned before, a combination of recognition and. [00:30:10] Then telling a nuance of your story, [00:30:16] Tara: I would still buy the cause. You're when you're buying the P bear thing from creative market. You're buying the set. So the entire set of the P air images. So you've got, say you were to do that and we'll let's talk about the Colorectal one, because if I'm going in, I'm going to the hardest one you have Tigar and I'm so happy that my, my friend P got his colorectal screen. [00:30:56] He's bouncing on his tail, right? Yep. so this is something, [00:31:01] George: no, you're right. You can take these characters and have a dialogue. And what does it mean? That happens. It's just it is so much it IBUs it with so much more nuance. Doesn't it? Because then you're not thinking. So colorectal cancer for Mego. [00:31:16] Tara: I go directly to the gal who was on the today show whose husband died. Jay died. Super cute lady. Can't remember her name right the second. And so there's a lot of bad associations, sad associations to that. And there's not this This feeling of hope that if you help donate to my cause we can. [00:31:47] Do so many more things than just mourn people. We can help with research. So maybe you have, what's the one that's always the owl, is the smart one. And so the owl says did you know that your donation helps us research cures and things to help with colorectal cancer? Like now you're saying, oh, it's not just this horrifying thing that everybody's gonna die from. It's that you, as an organization. Present a way for people to be hopeful and to want to donate because, and to want to share socially. Yeah. Do you wanna share a picture of a colon? I have seen a picture of a colon and they are not attractive. [00:32:42] Do you wanna share a picture of a colon or do you wanna share a picture of tiger jumping up and down? With a funny context to it, but here's the game that I'm seeing. You're bringing in characters that have a normal relationship, and then you're adding dialogue. It's a caption contest in some respects of saying, what would this dialogue look like if it were about our cause? [00:33:03] George: All right, I'm gonna throw you another one, unless there's another point here. No, I like. Okay. The news literacy project, and then generally anybody dealing with misinformation online. And so this particular organization works with educators and journalists to give students the skills they need to discern fact from fiction and know what to trust. [00:33:23] Tara: Oh my goodness. I would totally use. Was oh, we just watched this. Oh, you can't use it. I can give you a great example. Can't uses. So you charming was the villain and guy was the villain in in frozen. You could do this on social media. You could absolutely do this without getting in trouble. Yeah. [00:33:55] Prince [00:33:56] George: times. So just yeah. Who like a quiz who was the villain in social media da, everybody knows fake news sometimes or however you put it, that things aren't always what they seem at first glance. Yeah. And so you're talking about the fact that don't forget when you're reading the news things. [00:34:21] Tara: Aren't always what at first glance ever news or Scrooge is in the is in the public domain, that Scrooge store. That's why you have, that's why you have SCR and you have all those movies that are made of it, but you could put something about You can't use Scrooge duck, but you can use Scrooge and you could put something about the fact that Scrooge goes bankrupt. [00:34:52] Loses all his money. and then underneath you could say something like not true. He donated it all to a, to worthy causes after tiny Tim taught him the right way to do it. Make sure to fact check. Yeah, [00:35:07] George: I. All right here. I'm gonna play one into you. See how you would go with the queen of hearts is public domain. [00:35:14] Yeah. And notoriously pretty terrible leader. Did you have the little cards as like defenders or like at least the soldiers, right? No. You could have she has queen of heart soldiers. Yeah. Two soldiers, the queen of hearts talking to each other, being like, I'm not sure red. Paint's so great for flowers, but I'm not gonna look it up. [00:35:35] So painting the roses red, like all of that sort of iconography and you're like check the, so this could be part of an ongoing joke series. Could even be a, could even be a shirt. go, I'll go back to your product. But no, but it could all [00:35:48] Tara: of that's and I just set up a I've had an Etsy shop, but I just, the reason why I suggest red bubble. [00:35:54] Is because it is the easiest thing in 20 years, I have ever done online the way they've made the website and the ease of adding. It just has to be a big enough picture, which is why I suggested a fiber person, cuz they're gonna be able to there's terms like it has to be 4,500 pixels by 5,005. [00:36:17] And nonprofit people are like LA. I can't hear that. but any kind of graphic artist can do that in a heartbeat. That's just not a hard thing. And so if they have an idea that they wanna implement, they could implement it with somebody on five or very easily. Gotcha. All right, [00:36:37] George: you ready for another one? [00:36:38] Sure. Let's keep going. All right. This is one move for hunger, but also hunger organizations in general, food banks, collecting food and in general for move for hunger, they're a national nonprofit, and they have a sustainable way to reduce food waste. Mainly when people move, instead of throwing it away, they have moving companies that have been part of their network that get food that last mile to donated to local food banks. [00:37:01] So anything in the food bank, food insecure. Space. Okay. What [00:37:07] Tara: would you play there? So I go to the mad Hatter's tea party where they're eating right. Right after this, they called the moving company and they came and, or they called moved for hunger and no food. No teacakes were, was. And that's all imagery you ha can go grab and that's all imagery. It's just there. And people already know it. And they know about the, I if I was doing move for hunger, I would do a whole series of it with like cupcakes, like a really cute cupcake. Maybe even not a Alice Wonderland cupcake, but you can use, drink me. [00:37:49] You can U I. Always check. You can use drink meat. You can use eat me and then say [00:37:57] George: no, those little tags that are like so iconic to [00:37:59] Tara: it. Yeah. So eat me on a little cupcake. Cause you can buy those kind images already made. And once you have your little cupcake, then you can say not a Chrome went to waste. [00:38:13] Because the food bank showed up or the Mo food movers or move for hunger showed up. And so you're go, like the big part of whatever you're doing is gonna be the cupcake and the eat me. And then especially on social media, then the underneath of it is the message with a link to your donate page or a link to your about page so people can understand what your thing is. [00:38:39] People want to know how to help, but you have to attract their attention before they know that you're there. I adopted three kids from foster care and so food, poverty is super important to me because my kids came from that situation. But there's no way for me to know. And I work with realtors all the time, cuz of that little two year thing in real estate, I would think that you could contact realtors and have them give everybody who's moving a flyer to put in the homes of the people who are moving. [00:39:16] And you're literally touching so many more people who are moving, but you have to attract that realtor first. [00:39:24] George: Yeah. I had the thought of Winnie the POH and honey, I'm done. I'm all in poo, but Winnie the POH and honey, like he's always looking for honey, always hungry and nothing is Sader than a sad poo and an empty honey. [00:39:35] Tara: Exactly. That's wonderful. I love imagine, right? That is wonderful. There's a whole bunch in SCR. So you, so then at Christmas time, yeah, you do Scrooge and tiny Tim never had enough to eat. This is the. If tiny Tim had been alive now move for hunger. Would've been able to help. So your image is something endearing and heartfelt and that, and then your message is that this is an actual thing that helps people. [00:40:12] And what you, oh, here's another thing. Oh, this is a big one. Let's talk about demographics, right? Who has the most disposable income right now? And I see a lot of people tr okay let's start. Coherently cuz I just got really excited. So people with money are I'm 56, so I have money and people older than me. [00:40:39] So let's say 50 and older have money, disposable income to donate. So you want most of your Donations your hardcore, Hey send like I, I support best friends, which is a dog rescue. It's a giant rescue place, but they had a dog town, TV show and stuff like that. So I donate to them and they send me emails with pictures of dogs and dog stories and sometimes dog t-shirts and things like that. [00:41:11] And I have the disposable income to do it. I also donate to Kiva and which is for entrepreneurs overseas, their micro loads. So you want to take. And figure out what kind of images are going to appeal to people who are older. If you're looking for donations, not to say, to ignore younger people but that's a better target market to to. [00:41:43] To get money, easy money, recurring revenue, whatever you wanna call it, because the disposable income is there. If you are trying to get volunteers, I don't volunteer very often. I'm old and grumpy, and I don't really like to leave the house and. So you are gonna get a lot more volunteers from the younger people. [00:42:08] So you would direct if this is what your what the data from your past marketing campaigns has shown in your nonprofit. If it doesn't show that, then don't do this, but think about it. And if you can get volunteers from younger people, then figure out how you can use those kind of things, more hip and ed. [00:42:33] And mine can go back to tradition and sentimental and things like that. So those are all also things you wanna put in the mix, not just what is the character you're using, cuz you could use Tigger the same way. You said to you, I said, oh, I said to use. No. You said to use 'em for the wild cats, but you could also use him to say, Hey, hop on over and help us with the the drive to end colorectal cancer. [00:43:07] George: Yep. Fairly it's really usable. And I wanna put a finer point on what you're saying with regard to generational targeting because the characters. Are coming into public domain are 70 to a hundred years old. They are perhaps more recognizable, they're recognizable and broad, but specifically higher affinity, higher recognition for let's just be honest, a generation over 45. [00:43:30] Tara: Absolutely. I agree with that a hundred percent now I would say that my daughter, who is 17 recognized the mad hat. Because my artwork is a little cartoony but if you, yeah, your style. Yeah. Yeah. My style is a little bit more cartoony, but if you were to just put and she recognizes old poo, so then you would have to go to the really big ones. [00:43:56] You couldn't go to like owl from poo. You would have to go to poo bear, Tigger, EOR. Piglet and then you want yeah. Piglet, but then you want to to find out like how people are using those characters in common vernacular in the zeitgeist, because are you a Tigger or are you an E or is an actual thing? [00:44:29] I'm an ER, meaning that I tend to be a little. I just had this conversation with one of my friends today that I'm a little bit more grumpy and a little bit more doubting and she's a ticker, she's all everything's great. And everything's fine. And da. And so that's already in the Zeit case. [00:44:50] So you could do a fun quiz on, on your social media and say, are you a ticker or are you a E or. We're gonna have a drawing for a free entry to the, whatever you have coming up for one person from whichever team wins. Yeah, I just throwing other just looking through fictional characters, there's so much more than I realized Robinhood, Sherlock Holmes, Frankenstein's monster is a, we've only just scratched the surface of kind of what's possible. [00:45:26] George: I wonder I've been playing around with Dolly two and image creation from AI, and I realized that you can actually take one of these originals and do riffs. I think you'll get more random than you would an artist, but the ability to do variations, even on, on some of these imagery, once you have, as you acknowledge like that style of the original thing that people may recognize, you could actually move those characters around more easily than ever before. [00:45:51] I think especially for a nonprofit on social media, if you're doing no commercial sales and you're just posting on social media. Yeah. And you wanted to take, say the drippy clock from Dolly. And put it on the front of your building and say, Hey, it's time to, it's time to donate times times running out to donate for the September big cat whatever for that. [00:46:24] Tara: There's a general feeling that as long as you have changed, as long as more than 40%. Change, so there's a, I'm really big on the bad things that happened. So do you remember that Obama poster that was really graphic stark graphic? That was, are you saying the Shepherd's ferry one? [00:46:51] I believe so. Yeah. Yeah. He copied that from a picture that he didn't have the commercial rights to use oh, that's. Okay. So he is in trouble for that. He's getting sued by the photographer, or he's been sued by the photographer for that because he didn't change it at all. Short of poster, short of what anybody could have done in illustrator. [00:47:16] He made it exactly. [00:47:18] George: He just dropped it down the middle and changed one shade, changed the other shade, hit it with an outline and he is And bam you're done well, the original photographer could prove it was his. So the thought is that as long as you change about 40%, but there's lots of really recognizable. [00:47:35] Tara: I don't know if CLE. K L I M P T. He made all that gold arch where there's two people on you. Yeah. And there's gold. All of that is in the public domain. His stuff [00:47:48] George: is his is the kiss, right? That's the [00:47:50] Tara: symbolic one. He did the. Yeah. So there's tons of stuff. If you start to, to take a look and then, so you can go to, you can do a search for creative commons which is an actual place. [00:48:08] Creative commons. Yeah. Yeah, of course. And use lots of things there because there are a lot of contemporary artists. There are a lot. Just people who love to make art or who love to take pictures who are willing to have people use their artwork with a commercial license. Cause you still have to have a commercial license. [00:48:30] You are a commercial entity, even as a nonprofit yeah. So you're not using it for personal. [00:48:39] George: Yeah, you have to, especially I think the bright line here I'm taking away as we wrap up is for general social media and your website use there's clearly ways you can use it, but you definitely have to double check, triple check and even consider paying for some access to it. [00:48:54] When the commercial rights of like, all right, I'm putting it on an item to be sold and revenue will be generated albeit even for a non-profit [00:49:02] Tara: a hundred percent. But I also think that there's ways to. Collection like to pay for a commercial license of a large collection for a low amount of money that you then know unilaterally, you have purchased the commercial right to use, right? [00:49:19] So if you have all the poos and you have all the Allison wonderlands and you have a creative intern and you say let's all help you brainstorm things to do. They could be posting on social media or your website for the next year. With all different kinds of fun things. Yeah. [00:49:38] George: All right. Normally I end with rapid fire questions, but I will trim it down a little bit, maybe for you and some final wrap up questions, unless there's any other finer points you wanna put on this overall conversation? [00:49:51] Tara: No, I think this was fun. It was interesting. [00:49:54] George: Little bit different. Alright, so what is one tech challenge you're currently facing right now? [00:50:01] Tara: I just wrote in my newsletter about this, that my first reaction to anything is I can't do that. I'm an EOR, so I think, oh, I can't do that. I don't know how to do that. And one of my friends today, her coach told her she had to do TikTok and she said I don't, she was freaked out, just freaked out. [00:50:27] And she said, I don't know how to do this. And so I talked to her for a little while and at the end of it, she's oh, I absolutely can do this. So I think when my first reaction is I can't do this, number one, I'll phone, a friend. And then number two, I will look on YouTube because everything you need to know about how to do anything is on. [00:50:49] George: All right. What new website or tool have you started using in the past year? That's been a game changer for you, red bubble. [00:50:57] Tara: Red bottles. So fun. Love it. And I have no affiliation. [00:51:01] George: Yeah, no this ad brought to you by red bull com find your new [00:51:07] Tara: hobby. Exactly well, but I think it's because I've used Etsy for so long and I've worked with so many entrepreneurs and it is hard. [00:51:16] Like it's just it's hard to use. It's hard to do things and. So it's distressing to give that as a person who suggests ways to make money or to do marketing or to do things like that. It's distressing to me to recommend something that I know that they're probably gonna spend a lot of time at and may not succeed. [00:51:40] Yeah. Where I was like whoa. All my little people will be able to cause my, my readership for marketing artfully is women who tend to be older, who may not be as technically inclined. And so to have something to recommend them. I'll give you another one though. canva.com. Oh, [00:52:01] George: we're friends of Canada. [00:52:02] Yeah. Okay. [00:52:04] Tara: All right. If you're doing any kind of graphics. They like, so you could totally pull your logo into Canva and they have all kinds of elements in there. And when I said put like a little Santa Claus hat on it, they would have a Santa Claus hat. You could stick onto your to your thing, even for the top of your new, how fun would that be? [00:52:29] The top, the header of your newsletter every month. You stick something on it and then seasonal [00:52:35] George: iconography. [00:52:36] Tara: Yeah. Yeah. And then people get used to looking for that, and that's a way to get them to read your newsletter, which is the point. [00:52:45] George: All righty. What is one piece of advice your parents gave you that you either followed or did not [00:52:50] Tara: follow. [00:52:54] Don't open things with your teeth. I paid a lot for them and I opened things with my teeth all the time. [00:53:04] George: That might be the best answer to that question we've ever had. And we've had many years of this that's I'm not gonna pull all the thread there. I think that was perfect. Final hardball question here. [00:53:13] How do people find you? How do people help you? [00:53:17] Tara: So I I have a, I marketing art fleet is helpful to marketing things. I have another website called artsy Fary life.com and I have a lot of stuff on there. That's artsy Fary art, artistic stuff, and then also a bunch for Alzheimer's. Cause my mother-in-law has Alzheimer's so caregiving for Alzheimer's. [00:53:45] So if anybody has that, then there's a lot of good information. [00:53:49] George: And what might somebody reach out to you personally, to do, to work [00:53:54] Tara: on? I don't work for people anymore. don't [00:53:58] George: I did that. I'm outta the client games. All right. It's lucky, [00:54:01] Tara: but you know what, but you know what? I have an open offer to anybody to email me questions and I get lots of questions. [00:54:10] It's Tara at marketing artfully. And so while I won't do it for you, a lot of times I have either a recommendation. Or I can answer a question really quick, quickly for you. That would maybe be something that would take you a long time to figure out. And I have people email you know how some people don't mind getting texts and a text will Fritz out my day. [00:54:34] I get emails all day long from people, and I've done that for years. For 20 years. My email has been out on the internet and it's in lots of my blog posts that say, feel free to email me if you have any questions. And then if you're more artsy, I have a really cool newsletter on artsy Fary and if you're more marketing, I have a really cool newsletter on marketing artfully. [00:54:56] George: I appreciate you answering my random cold email to you, and it all makes sense. Now. I appreciate you giving generously of your time and thank you. [00:55:05] Tara: It was nice talking to you today. Podcast picture credit: OpenAI DALLE2 edit of A. A. Milne Winnie the Pooh on a log being interviewed

Biden's Liberal World Order, Creepy Disney & Ghislaine Maxwell Sentenced

Red Pill Revolution

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 5, 2022 51:16

In this week's episode, we discuss Joe Biden's Advisor admitting that the reason for high gas prices is due to having to maintain the "Liberal World Order", We discuss Disney pushing their Trans agenda onto your young children, leading to a discussion about the dark creepy history of other Disney movies. We also discuss the recent sentencing of child pedophiles and sex traffickers Ghislaine Maxwell. Subscribe and leave a 5-star review! ----more---- Our website https://redpillrevolution.co Protect your family and support the Red Pill Revolution Podcast with Affordable Life Insurance. This is attached to my license and not a third-party ad! Go to https://agents.ethoslife.com/invite/3504a now! Currently available in AZ, MI, MO, LA, NC, OH, IN, TN, WV Email redpillrevolt@protonmail.com if you would like to sign up in a different state Leave a donation, sign up for our weekly podcast companion newsletter, and follow along with all things Red Pill Revolution by going to our new website: https://redpillrevolution.co ----more---- Full Transcription Welcome to the revolution. Hello and welcome to red pill revolution. My name is Austin Adams. Thank you so much for listening today. I appreciate it so much. It has been a little bit since our last episode. Uh, so I'm really excited to jump back into it. I've been literally like itching to do a podcast episode with you guys. There's been so much that has been going on over the last, I don't know. Uh, several, several weeks, I guess, two and a half weeks now. And, uh, again, I'm really excited to jump into it. So today's episode, we're gonna jump into some of the more interesting topics that have come up over the last several weeks, including, uh, we'll touch on the liberal world order that Biden's, uh, advisor spoke to over the last, uh, I believe it was in the. Several days. We're also gonna touch on the Baymax situation with Disney. If you're not familiar, Disney had a new series come out, uh, regarding Baymax and Baymax is . Um, what is the movie called? Uh, big hero. Six, if you don't have children, you might not know it, but big hero six was the movie. It's a great movie, but they came out with a series recently where there's some interesting things that they, uh, talk to your children about. That a lot of people are kind of uncomfortable with, um, some parts of the, uh, trans agenda. So we'll discuss those things today. We're also going to talk on the Joe Biden cue card situation. if you haven't heard about that, basically they were telling him when to breathe and what to say when to sit down the fact that it was going to be him who is sitting down and not somebody else. I don't know how you make somebody else sit down, but, uh, yeah, they were very, very specific in their words. So we'll talk about all of that. All right. Before we jump into that, though, I need you to do one thing for me. Go ahead and hit that subscribe button, whether you're on apple podcast, YouTube, Spotify, rumble, uh, wherever you're at right now. Go ahead and hit that subscribe button. It means the world to me, it takes. Five seconds, five seconds of your time. I know that every day you go through your day, you're trying to look for a way to get some good karma, to feel good about yourself and know that you're doing something for somebody else. And you can do that very easily right now. And all you gotta do. Just tap, tap, tap that subscribe button real quick for me. All right. The next thing you can do leave a five star review. If you're on apple podcast, if you're on Spotify's YouTube, wherever, leave a five star review, it helps us with the rankings. Again, I appreciate it so much. And that's all I got for you there. All right. So what we're gonna go into first is going to be the liberal world order that Joe Biden's advisor talked about. And we'll go ahead and watch the clip first. Then we're gonna look at a clip of Joe Biden, actually referencing the same exact world order, uh, at the world economic forum. So we'll look at that clip from back in 2017, I believe it was. So let's watch this clip. Uh, we'll listen to it together. And then we will look at Joe Biden's clip of him, discussing it back in 2017. And here we go. It's fairly quick. It's like 10 seconds. Um, so here is this clip It's sustainable. What do you say to those families who say, listen, we can't afford to pay 4 85 a gallon for months. If not years, this is just not sustainable. Well, we heard from the president today was a clear articulation of the stakes. This is about the future of the liberal world order and we have to stand firm. So. so you heard it right there. This is about the future of the liberal world order. You paying $6. A gallon is about the future of the liberal world order that nobody even wants you to talk about. And you heard it right from the mouth of Joe Biden's advisor there. So that was a question regarding gas prices, right? They were asking about gas prices. And, uh, the question was basically how long do you expect people to be able to pay this and this, I don't know, airhead advisor, his response was as long as it takes be as long as we can keep up the liberal world order. Well, I don't know about you. I know about my bank account. I know about my friend's bank account. Family's bank account. None of my family members or friends or anybody gives a shit about the liberal world order. None of them, not a single one. Haven't heard him, you know, Hey, you, you really glad the liberal world orders doing well today, aren't you? No, nobody's talking about that. Nobody cares. Right? These, this Joe Biden and his advisors are so far removed from the general rep, uh, public that they think you actually care about the liberal world order. If anything, that's a concerning statement, right? For how long have we heard that the new world order is a conspiracy theory, right? Is, is something that, you know, doesn't exist. And, and, and you're just saying that because, uh, you know, you, you're a conspiracy theorist, a tin foil hat wearing crazy person. And now they're just saying it outright on, I don't know, whatever that was MSNBC or whatever. Um, so the liberal world order is what that advisor just said is the reason that you need to pay six or $7 a gallon for gas. And again, I don't care about the liberal order world order. I don't care. I don't think you do either. I don't think even liberals care about the liberal world order, especially when they have to pay six or $7 a gallon for gas. It's crazy. Um, so we're gonna go back and we're gonna watch a clip real quick of Joe Biden saying a very similar thing in 2017. And what you'll notice if you're actually looking at the video format of this is that the background has three interesting words while he's discussing these things. And it says world economic forum. Hmm. If you don't know what the world economic forum is, you don't know who Charles Schwab. Who leads the world economic forum? Um, it's basically the, the weirdest, uh, star wars, Imperial army. Uh, I don't know, like the legitimate new world order being ran by all of the world governments. All right, now Disney had a new series come out, uh, regarding Baymax this, the wokeness that Disney put into this TV series and I love this show. Like if you've ever seen the big hero, six, show it or movie, it's a great movie. All you have is go to the new show that they have. And again, this is, uh, the new bay max series and there's two episodes in a row. Two episodes in a row where they have this woke ideology and woke agenda being pushed on your children. Now, I, you know, I don't care what you want to get put in front of your children. I don't care what you want to teach your children. Honestly, don't teach my children, your ideology at 5, 6, 7 years old. Right? And even if you wanna introduce it be because there's a reason, there's a reason that you are not allowed to advertise to children. You're not allowed to advertise to children because they cannot make sense of what is true and what is false. They cannot make sense of when somebody is trying to deceive you for profit. Right? So there's literal laws around advertising to children because they know they're susceptible highly susceptible to somebody of authority or somebody like their favorite movie character, pushing an ideology and making something normal that maybe isn't. Or maybe, you know, shouldn't be pushed on a five to six year old. And again, there's two sides of Disney plus the show's on Disney plus, and there's two sides of it. There's like the parent side in the child's side and the kid's side of Disney plus doesn't have a ton of movies that you would normally let your child watch, right? Like Moana's not on there. Uh, cars, three Peter pan Dumbo wreck it, Ralph, like all of these, uh, onward, which is another awesome kid's movie. All of these movies that seemingly should be allowed for children that aren't for some obscure reason, but this new bay max series is on the kid size kid side of Disney, the kid size of di side of Disney. So you start to see in the series very quickly, what they're starting to push. And so we'll watch this clip right here. And what it is is it's this Baymax. If you don't know the, the background of big hero, six big hero, six is a movie about a kid who's, uh, his parents are dead and he lives with his aunt and his brother, his older brother, and his older brother dies in a fire during the movie. And he's a really smart kid and he makes this robot and his brother has a robot. Who's like super nice and like heals people. I don't know. It's a great movie. You should go watch it a hundred percent. You should go watch it. What you shouldn't watch if you're a child, is the bay max series. Because what they do is they, they place the Baymax, this robot, first of all, which is weird in a Pharmac. Like a CVS type of deal. And he's asking what type of tampons he should buy. And I think the context of the episode is that he's looking for tampons for some girl who needs them because it's her first period. And again, this is like five to six year olds can watch this because the, the apparent side of it is like seven or eight plus. So they're expecting five to six year olds to watch this series. And in this series, we'll, we'll go ahead and watch this. Um, he's asking about tampons and there's seven or eight people around him who are answering questions about tampons, which is like, whatever tampons who cares, periods, whatever, like, yeah. You wanna talk to my kid about how the re you know, how their body works at 7, 8, 9 years old? Honestly, it doesn't rub me the wrong way, as long as you're doing it from a medical perspective, but that's not what they are doing here, because one of the individuals is wearing a shirt that with the trans flag on it, As appears to be a male person of the male sex when they were born. I'm not assuming their gender , but it appears to be a man in the way that I was brought up, thinking men look based on their appearance, jawline, clothing, voice, testosterone level genitals, I don't know. Um, but here's the story. Here's the, here's the clip right here. And then we'll talk about Excuse me. Which of these products would you recommend? Oh, um, well these are the tampons I usually use. Thank you. I prefer pads. They're more comfortable for me. Thank you. I always get the ones with wings. Thank you. Get incented and bleach free. If you can. Thank you, yo, my daughter loves these. Thank you. These might be easier if it's her first period. Thank you. These are really environmentally friendly. what they don't show you. There is that one of the individuals is wearing a transfer is a man and says, this is the type of tampon that I use. Excuse me. Ma'am or sir, don't want to, you know, believe what your pronouns are based on your, uh, actual gender at birth. But I don't know where, where is this person with a trans flag on their shirt? Putting this tamp? What is it doing for them? and why are you trying to teach my five, six and seven year olds that periods are, have men have periods, biological men have periods because this was a biological man wearing a transfer in Baymax. Why are you trying to teach my 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 year old? Why are you trying to begin these questions at that age? Because all you're doing and if again, and if you go back to, there was a book written by a woman, um, I forget the name of it, but she wrote a book basically about how the mental health crisis that was prior to this, uh, era. So let's say between like 2000 and 2016, there was a big manifestation of mental health issues for young women in the area of, uh, anorexia and bulimia. And so what they saw was a similar drop between 2000 and I think it was 17 and 2021 when trans. Started to become a very popular topic of conversation. Um, what they saw was a very similar drop in the amount of women who were identifying or, or had a mental health issue represent itself in the way of anorexia and bulimia now representing itself in the way of gender dysphoria. And if you don't know what gender dysphoria is, ask a psychologist because they learned about it in school, in the DSM five, where it outlined what that actually is. And so why are you trying to push? And again, I don't have a problem if you wanna, like, bring this up to a 14, 15 year old in school and represent these ideas and let them know that this is something that's out there. And this is what people think. And you know, maybe, you know, somebody who's in a situation, but don't try and tell my children that a man can have a period. Don't try and tell my six year old, seven year old, five year old. That the, the actual reproductive organs of a man allow for that situation to happen because you're confusing them. That's not science, especially when you're claimed to be the party of science. That's not science. A man cannot have a period, period. it doesn't work that way. I don't have a uterus. I don't have a vagina. I don't have anything. That's shedding its wall or it's lining that's causing, uh, bleeding. I don't have that. I don't bleed from anywhere once a month. It does not work that way. Sorry to tell you Disney, if you were so far uninformed that you actually believed a man could have a period, they can not. So don't groom my child to thinking that they can. And, and, and so you see it prior in the next episode of this bay max series, because I watched it with my daughter right there in the very next episode is. Of, um, a show about a guy who ends up asking another guy out on a date. And again, if you wanna do this with like 12, 13, 14 year olds where they're aware of these things, don't do it to a five, six year old. I, I just don't see the place for this, like sexual orientation being brought up to somebody who is literally a toddler Leah toddler two years ago, because you know what you're doing, you know? Right. And, and then, and again, and I wouldn't have a problem if with this, if it was coming from an independent company, this is literally the biggest entertainment company in the world. You know, the same entertainment company who, when you go back and watch the OG lion king wrote sex in the stars, because they wanted to subconsciously program your children to be hypersexualized. When it was convenient for them, it's the same company who had the, whatever that guy was from the little mermaid with a boner sitting there with a, another character on his lap. It's the same company. I literally have a list here in an article of all the crazy shit that Disney's done. That's been hyper sexualizing, our children for decades, like 55, 60 years. Right. And yet you wanna take off Moana wreck it, Ralph, uh, Molan Peter pan and Dumbo, but you're trying to groom my child into believing a man can have a period. What the fuck planet do you live on? And you're trying to like shape my child's reality because that's what you're doing, right? When you're PO positioning your child in the way, when you're teaching them something, you're shaping their reality because they don't know better. They don't know how these things work. They don't, they haven't been introduced wi by the reproductive system. And all they do is, you know, maybe they watch Netflix, they watch Disney plus they watch a little YouTube and then they speak with the parent. And now they're trying to interject their ideology into your child's mind at five years old, the same way that they were writing sex in the stars. Hyper sexualizing you at the age of 5, 5, 6, 7 years old. When you were watching the lion king back in the nineties, the same way that they were, you know, they had a Ladin saying, good teenagers, take off their clothes. That was in Aladin. That was literally in the OG Aladin to where they, there was like all this controversy around it. But Aladin, there was like, everyone has heard the claim. I have the article up here. Everyone has heard the claim that Aladin says, good teenagers, take off your clothes in the balcony scene, where he's about to take Jasmine on a magic carpet ride while it was argued back and forth. For many years, Disney muted the line in his rerelease of Aladin. Why would you mute a line in the movie unless you believe what it was doing was wrong? Hmm. Now let's look at some other stuff and they literally don't even have Fantasia on the children's Disney side. Like this children's side of Disney. They don't have Fantasia. Fantasia is a literal music based movie from like 1940. With like lights and all this weird, cool stuff. And like, and this is also the same exact company that had Allison Wonderland. They did multiple movies on Allison Wonderland, which is literally just a movie about tripping balls on shrooms or acid. And you can go watch that on Disney plus right now, yet you want censor Moana in cars, three, like you can't watch cars three on there. It's it is just so interesting to me that they want to push this ideology on the child side of Disney. Now, again, I don't like if you want to have, and, and I'll play this clip here of the Baymax, like the, the guy asking the other guy out on a date, which is like, cool. I, you know, do your thing again. I, I don't care what you do in your sex life. I cool. If that's what you do, if that's, you know, your sexuality, I get it 100%. Go ahead and do you, but. I don't think that the same company that's writing sex in the stars should be introducing this to five and six year olds. When at the same time, they're not allowing them to watch cars three in the name of doing the right thing. So, and then if we go back to the aristocrats aristocrats, right, they, they took that off there. Um, because of it, they, they took, um, what was it? The movie, the rescuers, if you go watch the, the old OG Disney movie, the rescuers in the background on a poster, there's a literal naked woman on the poster, still on Disney plus. Let's see, what else do we have here from Disney now they took off, uh, the Peter pan. Now the Peter pan one, like they, I think they did the same thing for mul. Like Mulan has, uh, you know, they did it for racist ideology because, um, I don't know what the part about it was for Mulan with Peter pan. They did it because he wore like the feather hats. Um, and it said the probably the most recent Mo racist moment in the mainstream Disney film is the moment of Peter pan where he a lovely tune explains why native Americans are red in the catchy tune. What makes the red man red? We learned that engines started off as white people. Then they were kissed by girls and turned bright red and the redness never went away. okay. That's one hell of an origin myth. And when it's delivered by a chorus of natives, why wouldn't a six year old child, believe it. And that last line is important there. Why would a, you know, when it's delivered by a chorus of natives, when it's delivered in a situation where there's seven people standing around Baymax, a literal robot, looking for a tampon. There's seven people around him shouting out, you know, uh, tips and tricks for how to use a tampon. And then you have a actual man biological man in the trans shirt. Who's throwing his opinion out about how he utilizes tampons. Now, again, let's take the last sentence of this article, where it says when it's delivered by a chorus of, in this case, individuals in the Baymax show, why wouldn't a six year old child, believe it, why wouldn't a six year old child believe that a man can have a period is, and, and why are you gonna confuse a 11 year old girl into believing that, you know, what happens to you happens to him? And everybody's, you know, it's just, it's not how it works. And we don't live in the fantasy land of Disney, right? And then you get into, you know, even the darker side of Disney, where they find out all of these, you know, all of these, um, sex trafficking rings, where people are being busted as pedophiles in actual Disney world. And it gets even darker. So I don't know, to me it's bothersome, you know, I just watched that clip with my, I actually watched the show with my daughter and to see that, that Baymax clip where the man is talking about how he utilizes tampons and then immediately follow it up, like back to back episodes. Um, where, you know, I don't know, again, I don't care what you do. I think you should absolutely have. I think like in onward, the movie with Disney, they actually have a scene where a woman talks about her wife and like, cool, get it cool. A hundred percent. Um, but trans men don't have periods. Men don't have periods, they don't bleed, they don't shut a uterine lining on their, you know, it just doesn't exist. It doesn't happen. And why are we trying to teach our youth that that's actually a thing it's gross. All right. Now, speaking of gender ideology, Major us airlines to allow gender neutral option on ticket reservations. This is an article from Reuters as of July. First, it goes on to say that major us airlines have agreed to update computer systems by the end of 2024, to allow travelers to purchase tickets with an X gender marker. An airline trade group confirmed on Friday. Us Senator Ron widen in a letter to airlines for America, chief executive Nick Callio that was seen by Reuters said member airlines committed to the change after he had engaged with the group, a spokesman from the airline group confirmed that widens letter was accurate. Airlines for America, represents passenger carriers for Delta airlines, United airlines, American airlines, Southwest airlines, Alaska airlines, Hawaii airlines and jet blue airways. now it goes on to say in March, the Biden administration said that Americans would be allowed to choose an X for gender on their passport applications and select their sex on social security cards. Now I've said this before, I've said it about the bathroom thing. I've said it about sports. I'll say it about this too. If we're gonna have an X option, why don't we just not ask people's gender? If it no longer is if no longer matters, if we can just be whatever we want any given day, depending on how we feel, why not just have it be not gender, like not genderless. You're not genderless. Let's just stop asking gender because literally why does it matter what your gender is when I'm traveling on a plane? Are you gonna check and make sure when I walk in the door or through security, and if I don't have a, a penis, you're gonna turn me around. Like, why are we asking this to begin with? So if you wanna play these silly games, don't make an X. There's no X in gender. It doesn't exist. It's not a thing. There's men and there's women. Those are the only two genitalia that exist in this world. So if we're not checking for anything and there's no reason, same thing with the bathrooms, same thing with sports, right? If you want sports to be allowed to women, to compete with men and men to compete with women. Cool. Do it fine. Leah Thomas, the number one record breaking swimmer of all time and female NCAA IV league swimming. when she was number 400 and whatever, you're just gonna see that women's sports become men's sports. Unfortunately, that's the way that biology works. Men tend to have, you know, better, you know, thicker bone density. They tend to have different muscular structures. If we're gonna say that it doesn't matter what your gender is. If it doesn't matter how your chemical and bodily makeup is and your muscle structure, then just say it doesn't matter. Don't don't tell me that a woman is a man or a man is a woman, and then can then compete in women's sports and shatter every record ever, cuz you're not living in the real world. So in the same case here, if we're gonna have X on our passports as a gender option, then just don't ask me my gender. Cuz obviously it doesn't matter if I can put an X there just don't ask. It's a silly thing to do. So it goes on to say that in March the Biden administrations, that Americans would be allowed to choose an X for their gender on their passport applications and select their sex on social security cards. Nobody should have to misgender themselves in order to book a flight widen wrote and by forcing travelers to book their ticket with inaccurate gender information airlines also end up providing inaccurate information to the transportation security administration. Is it now I want to identify the way that language works, cuz I think this is important to note here when we're talking about gender. That's how the word breaks down. You're talking about the, um, Latin, uh, where the word actually comes from from the Latin language, right? A lot of the American or the English language derives from Latin derivatives and the word gender breaks down to two points within the Latin language, which has meaning itself. Gender is not, or I'm sorry. Language is not a construct. At least in our sense language from the English language does not just derived from air and we can change the way that words work at any given time. No language is sounds that give meaning, and we have derived the meaning of our sounds based on basic languages that came from before English. Right? And in this case, Latin is the, is the derivative of much of the English language. So then when we look at the actual derivative of Jen du. It comes from the same derivative of gen it tolls, genitals, gender. You don't just get to make it a construct and change it to be whatever you want. You don't get to put an X there. Now, if you wanna identify as whatever you wanna wear, whatever clothing you want and say that, you know, you have, you know, go back to the DSM five and talk about that conversation from earlier. That's fine. Do what you wanna do, be who you want to be, wear, what you wanna wear, call yourself, whatever you wanna call yourself. And I will respect that, but X is not a gender doesn't exist. So let's just call it the same way you can have gender neutral bathrooms. Let's have a gender neutral passport. Maybe it doesn't matter what your gender is to go fly on a plane. It shouldn't, it shouldn't matter at all, what your gender is to fly on a plane. It shouldn't matter what your gender is to go to a different country. Shouldn't matter the, in the same way that it shouldn't matter what your sexuality is. You shouldn't have to identify your sexuality when you go fly on a plane. One place that it does matter though, is sports because sports have real repercussions, especially when you're talking about contact sports, just in the same way that we saw, you know, um, transgender MMA fighters, literally breaking the face of women without telling them that they were a man and had different bone density and different, different bodily structure and different, uh, muscle tone in structure. Right. And that's the whole, that's the whole argument. Right? So, so there should be no reason that we have an X on a passport. Okay. Now it goes on to say that widens letter said, member airlines will publish a page on their website detailing the specific steps that non-binary individuals can take to obtain tickets that reflect their gender such as working with a customer service representative who can manually update the gender marker on their ticket. Widens letter noted that United and American airlines have already changed their booking process to allow travelers, to book tickets with an X gender marker, but not all us airlines have followed their example. The state's department in June of 2021 said that us citizen citizens could select their gender on applications without having to submit medical documentation. In October, it issued the first American passport with a X gender marker. what, what does X stand for? The TSA in March said it would implement gender neutral screening at its checkpoints. Now all of you in the comment section here, posting pride flags a hundred percent go pride, right? Pride month, whatever sexuality, whatever trans is not a sexuality. Trans is a, is a gender issue. It's not a sexuality being gay, being lesbian, being bisexual is a sexuality. They've muddied the water of the L G B community. With the tees go watch the, what is it? The, um, oh, what Dave Chappelle, Dave Chappelle has the literal best comedy bit ever, where he talks about the, uh, He like breaks it down into where they like all get into an Uber. There's the LS, the GS, the bees. And they're all mad that the tees are trying to hijack their thunder. It's it's such a great construct that he breaks it down as, because the way that they've tried to like hijack the sexuality movement, because it should absolutely be allowed, you should absolutely be able to marry somebody of the same sex should be like, and, and have it be socially acceptable and raise children together adopt like everything a hundred percent, a hundred percent. But the fact that you want women or men to compete in women's sports and break their fucking face in an MMA fight and not even have to tell the other individual that they're a man and have different bodily and bone structure than the other individuals is a problem. That's a real problem. Again, do what you do sexually, like again, a hundred percent on board with you. You should absolutely be able to get married. You should absolutely be able to date whoever you want to, but don't expect someone to work their ass off their entire life as a woman in female sports, and then to just be super happy and clapping their hands on the podium. As they take second place by a half a mile to a man who had a severe, severe, um, you know, much better bodily makeup to win that event. It's unfair. It's not fair. And in the same case here, let's just call it all gender neutral. Right? Let's have a gender neutral league. for sports. And the problem with that is let's say we mix that. W N B a with the NBA throw LeBron in the w B a throw, you know, what's gonna happen is all of the men are just also going to represent the women's sports. There's not going to be any women in the sports. And the fact is they're bigger, they're stronger. They, they generally are more athletic because of their bodily makeup. They're faster. Now, literally go. I'm not saying these things frivolously. I'm telling you, if you go look at the Guness book of world records or the Olympic records for any event ever, that is specifically athleticism, you will find that the men generally are faster. They generally lift more. When it comes to weights, they're more athletic in, in their events. That's the same reason that the us women's Olympic soccer team plays 14 year old boys teams. And, and a lot of times gets beat. That's a thing. I saw a, an actual, uh, athlete from the us women's Olympic team post about it. and they made a marker, a point of that, the fact that there's a reason that there is differentiations in gender. Now that doesn't exactly pertain to this. That's just a little side note, but let's just call it. Why do we need gender on a passport? Why do we need gender on an airline ticket? It seems stupid. Right? So if we're gonna play these little games where you can put an X on there, let's just not put gender on there. Why does it matter in the first place? All right. So segues segues. Um, so another big event that has come out recently, another big topic of conversation has been that Gale Maxwell was sentenced to 20 years in prison in the Jeffrey Epstein sex trafficking case 20 years, who would've thought. Now I'm surprised because this article was written on June 26th or June 28th, June 28th, that she has not somehow managed to. Kill herself already magically in a prison with, you know, padded walls. But I'm also surprised that you can get a, a sex trafficking case when you've never actually trafficked it to any individuals who are being charged with the crime in the first place. Who did she traffick these people to cuz we know there was a big, long black book. Epstein's black book of every individual, uh, videotapes VHS's in boxes, boxes of VHS tapes that were taken from Epstein island, literal names of all the flight logs, not a single individual at all that we've been told of has been prosecuted for having children trafficked to them by Gale max. So here it goes, it says British socialite turned convicted sex trafficker gal Maxwell finally got her due Tuesday when she was sentenced to 20 years in prison. For her role in helping richen powerful pedophile, Jeffrey Epstein abuse, young girls. Now, what this doesn't mention too, is that she was also accused of raping young girls with him as if you follow the trial you would've saw because there was actually testimony by a, a a, I think it was, uh, guff, G I R a F F E, who testified that she was inappropriately touched. And Glenn Maxwell was actually a part of these actions that happened on the island and was a part of grooming them and actually exploiting them sexually goes on to say that us district judge Allison Nathan said the sentence of 240 months was sufficient and not greater than necessary for Maxwell who appeared, who earlier addressed the court and told victims in a halfhearted apology. I am sorry for the pain that you experienced. Yeah. Okay. As she finally learned her faith, the 60 year old predator's face remained inscrutable and she briefly hugged her attorneys before leaving the courtroom, wearing blue jail scrubs, her dark brown locks cut in a Bob in her ankles and shackles. She did not speak to her siblings who were seated in the row behind her. The number of people harmed is impossible to measure said victim Annie farmer, who testified at trial, told the court during Tuesday's hearing as Maxwell, shoulders, tensed the Epstein. Madam tried to avoid looking at her victims as they spoke, but she did lock eyes with Sarah ransom. When her victim told her you broke me in unfathomable ways, but you didn't break my spirit nor did you dampen my internal flame that now burns brighter than ever. And it's amazing how we got so much coverage, so much coverage of how many trials over the last, how, you know, year and a half between Kyle written house. And like, we've literally never had more celebrity trials than we've had in the last, I don't know, seven months, all these huge, you know, inside the courtroom Hollywood ask type events. And then speaking of that, Nancy Pelosi hiring a literal, uh, you know, director of movies to try and put a, a celebrity ask spin on the January 6th trials, which I think are still going on today. I don't know nobody's watching them and nobody really cares cuz everybody knows that. potentially set up by the FBI as pointed to, by Ted Cruz who interviewed the CIA director assistant of national security. I don't know some long name where she's, you know, if you recall, I put out a video on it where she goes, you know, I can't answer that. You know, did you guys insight violence on January 6th? I can't answer that. Did you guys have agents present who were pro uh, provocateurs to attempt to get into the capital building? I can't answer that. Well, why can't you answer that? Well, you can't answer that because you know the answer's yes. And then we saw, what was it? Ray apps, right? Ray apps. You go back and look at Ray apps. And Ray apps was the individual who I put in my video who was going into the capital into the cap. We gotta go in there, you know, and then no out of everybody, who's literally still sitting in a white jail cell right now in the bottom of Joe Biden's, uh, white house. Being held by the CIA secretly, allegedly, uh, Ray a is still sitting on his, you know, a hundred acre farm with a golf cart, not facing any charges when there's actually footage of him telling people the day before that they have to go into the capital. I don't know. I digress, but it's all a conspiracy theory. I don't actually believe any of that. Um, it says Maxwell's defense attorneys. Meanwhile, I don't know how we got into that. Um, Maxwell's defense attorney. Meanwhile had begged for leniency saying she should get no more than four to five years. Wow. For raping and sex trafficking, dozens, if not hundreds of young women in a literal Ponzi scheme of pedophilia, if you look back, if you go watch the documentary, which I started and didn't finish because it made me sick to my stomach, having to watch this and all the horrific things that they did to these kids. But if you go back the way that they did it is they literally recruited it. Like it was a multi-level market. They would get one girl in the school to go back and recruit other girls from the school to go back and recruit other girls from the school. And they would pay them money for every girl that they brought in to give massages to these old men. And eventually they would be sex traffick to an island of celebrities. And their parents were like, it was just so gross, but it was like a multilevel, literally like a multi-level market, like the Avocare of pedophilia and Glenn Maxwell ran it all, literally ran ital was the one who convinced the girls would go into the, you know, go buy the schools and pick these girls up, would have them in the room with her and then actually sexually assault them the way that they were outlined within that as well. So it goes on to say that her sentence marked to the end of a lengthy criminal proceedings that started after Maxwell's arrested a sprawling New Hampshire estate in July of 2020, prosecutors brought the charges against Maxwell months after Epstein, her former partner in crime killed himself. In Manhattan jail cell while awaiting trial on sex trafficking, raps today's sentence holds gal Maxwell accountable for perpe perpetrating heinous crimes against children, us attorney of the Southern district of New York Navy and Williams said in the statement, this sentence sends a strong message that no one is above the law and is never too late for justice. Maxwell's attorney Bobby stern Heim. And if you watched any of the trials like, or if you listen to the, um, actual, uh, outlines of the trials, or like what was actually said, it was dis this woman was disgusting. She literally related Jeffrey Epstein to James Bond in her opening statement, literally called him a modern day. James Bond in her opening statement about sex trafficking children for pedophilia. It goes on to say, in addition to the prison term, she also imposed a $750,000 fine on Maxwell who could potentially get credit for the two years she's already spent behind bars or have some of her time shaved off for good behavior. That's terrible. I don't think there's any amount of good behavior that overcomes you. Literally sex trafficking, children for profit, and then also sexually assaulting them. It also says that her attorneys requested that she serve out her time at the federal prison in Danbury, Connecticut. The low security women's lockup that served as the inspiration for Netflix. Orange is the new black, the, uh, Oxford educated Aris and daughter of late publishing tycoon. Robert Maxwell, who spent much of her life hobnobbing with the rich and famous hobnobbing. That's an interesting term, um, was convicted of sex trafficking. Now, if you don't know anything about Gale Maxwell's dad, that's another interesting conversation. Gale Maxwell's dad was alleged. A agent for the Maad, which is like a secret intelligence agency. Um, for, I think it's like Saudi Arabia or something like that, or the Saudi princes, I don't know. Um, but he also purchased, uh, the books. Um, what is it? It's uh, McGraw hill, Gale Maxwell's dad bought McGraw hill EV you know, every single textbook ever that you ever got ever in high school that had McGraw hill on it was owned by Gale Maxwell's dad, who at one point considered changing the name to Maxwell, but then didn't do so in fear that it would come back on him and who his actual, you know, his background was, but owned McGraw hill. And I believe still does today. Like that family still owns McGraw hill, which is literally every textbook ever in both high school, middle school, elementary school, and college. Every person out there right now can identify with that book company, McGraw hill is owned by Gale Maxwell's dad. You know, the Gale Maxwell who, and it's like, I think our dad actually died. Got pushed off. Well, didn't get pushed off, fell off of a boat, his yacht in like the middle of the ocean, uh, mysteriously that family's nuts. And you look back at their background. The sister of gal Maxwell, like was one of the very first internet technology tycoons who came out with a search engine or some shit back in the early nineties and became a billionaire off of it. It's crazy. When you look into the history of Gale Maxwell in her family goes on to say that, uh, four women testified at her publicized, highly publicized trial and not enough, highly publicized as, uh, you know, pirates of the Caribbean actor over, uh, minor spousal abuse. But the widely publicized trial in Manhattan, federal court, and two of them, several other accusers also addressed the court Tuesday, calling out on the judge to lock Maxwell up and throw away the key. They hailed the sentence that Nathan opposed with one Elizabeth Stein calling it vindication in validation, Virginia guff Roberts, which is the individual I was talking about earlier, who had long accused Maxwell and Epstein of trafficking, her to Britain's prince Andrew described Maxwell like a Wolf in sheep's clothing in her letter to the court. Yeah, it's interesting. How, uh, prince Andrew per Andrew literal royalty was accused during this trial of sexually abusing a girl who is in the trial under oath. And he's sitting free somewhere right now, probably on a different island, sexually assaulting other young children. Like how, what the fuck kind of world is this. Says, um, she went on to say that Gale, you deserve to spend the rest of your life in the jail cell. She wrote you deserve to be trapped in a cage forever. Just like you trapped your victims. Kate, a former British model who also used her first name and testified at trial said Maxwell and Epstein's victims are unified to bring justice to a common enemy. No person should be shielded from the consequences of their actions. Case said, calling Maxwell, a manipulative and cruel person who has shown a lack of remorse for how she ruined the lives of countless women and children staring at Maxwell. She said today I can look at gal Elaine and tell her that I became what I am today in spite of her and her efforts to make me feel powerless and insignificant the disgrace socialite, who has denied that she abused. Anyone has remained, locked up in Brooklyn's metropolitan detention center for nearly two years since her bust and throughout her month long trial. Federal prosecutors at trial portrayed Maxwell as a sophisticated predator who was inextricably linked to Epstein, including in his pursuit of gross to sexually abuse from 1994 to 2004, it goes on to show a literal picture of prince Andrew with Virginia guff with Gale Maxwell smirking behind her Maxwell was Jeffrey Epstein's right hand said, assistant us attorney general, or us attorney Allison Moe. As she said in her clothing, state closing statements in December 20th, Maxwell and Epstein were partners. She said they were partners in crime who sexually exploited young girls together. So ding dong the witch is dead bitches. Glenn Maxwell is in jail for at least 20 years. Well, at the most 20 years, which I think is insignificant, I think she should literally be given a 40 year sentence and on good behavior, have the opportunity to be out when shes. 125 years old. I think that, uh, 20 year state, uh, sentence for all of the horrific things that she did is unjust. And eventually we'll either see that, you know, maybe she's gonna wind up hanging herself in her prison cell that with padded walls, with, you know, the video being cut at exactly the right time with while on suicide watch , or maybe we'll see her, uh, get out on good behavior after seven years, which I think is the more likely of the scenarios. All right. And then the last article that we're going to talk about, because it just caught my eye based on all of the weirdness and diet today, um, is going to be this one by New York post, which says that vegan mom starved her toddler to death with diet of raw vegetables and fruits. This was on July 1st, 2022 written by the New York post goes on to say that a Florida vegan mother has been found guilty of murdering her 18 month old son after only feeding him raw fruits and vegetables. Sheila O'Leary 39 years old is facing life in prison after a jury life in prison after, uh, convicted her Wednesday of murder in a string of child abuse charges over 2019 death of her toddler, Ezra O'Leary her little boy weighed just 17 pounds, seven pounds below average. When his parents noticed he had stopped breathing O'Leary and her husband, Ryan O'Leary told police that Azara followed a strict vegan diet, but that he was also breastfed. They said the boy hadn't eaten in the, for about a week prior to his death and was having trouble sleep. An autopsy found the little boy died of malnutrition complications. Prosecutors accused the mother of failing to seek proper medical care for her son. When she realized he was ill, she to, she chose she's. She chose to disregard his cries assistant state attorney. Sarah Miller said she didn't need a scale to see his bones. She didn't need a scale to hear his cry. Prosecutors added that the couple had also been neglecting their three children all under the age of 11. When Ezra died, we're here because their children were starving so much that the youngest starved to death, like that's horrible. And there's this like the, this situation with all of these fad diets and you see it every day with like all of the individuals who are out there who are literally like the vegan cat hashtag on Instagram. where people try to feed their cat, who is a carnivore lettuce. Um, like all these little crazy people that are out there, uh, because they're vegan, like somehow, you know, they're, they're helping the world by not feeding their cat, the proper nutrition that they need. So we see it here with this woman who obviously tried to impose her, her nutritional ideology onto her infant at a very young age, in this horrific incident. Um, I just can't imagine what a 17 pound 18 month old would look like. And to know how long she must have known that he was, you know, not given the proper nutrition. Uh, but that's just so frustrating to read. And, and again, it comes back to like literally fad diet, you really fat diets. Your toddler does not need to be vegan. Your toddler needs proper nutrition. It needs protein. It needs much more than raw vegetables and fruit. But I would say if that's all this, like if she just literally just didn't feed him proper nutrients and he died, that's horrible. And she definitely deserves to be treated as such and to go to jail for. Uh, not giving her child proper nutrition, but a life sentence for that compared to 20 years for gal Elaine Maxwell, who purposefully sexually assaulted in trafficked young women for decades to Hollywood and political elites, at least that's similar, at least that's comparable. And so the fact that Gale Maxwell got 20 years and this woman's facing a life sentence, you know, if that's the only thing to the story, I don't know what the other types of, of, you know, um, you know, improper care that was going on here was, but if that's it and they were just improperly feeding this child, now, obviously the child died and that's horrific and, and this is a terrible situation. Um, but if the mother wasn't just actually starving her child with purposeful intent to. Kill her child off and was feeding them just the wrong diet was an absolute idiot and had no idea of how nutrition works or to look at a child and know that they're obviously in need of better nutrition standards. I dunno it still, it still seems to me as if maybe there should at least be a comparable standard anyways, um, on that note kind of a negative way to, to, to end off here. but it's good to be back. Thank you guys so much for joining me. I appreciate you so much. Um, I hope you enjoyed today's episode, uh, and we will be back again a second time this week for another episode, cuz I have lots. Lots to talk about. So, um, again, thank you so much for listening. I appreciate you so much. Go ahead and hit that subscribe button right now, head over to red pill, revolution.co, and make sure that you're not leaving your children, your spouse, your wife, your husband, um, without the proper financial backing, if you do die, because one thing is for sure, every single person that's listening to this. Every single person that's watching, this has loved ones and is also going to die. And you can at least alleviate some aspect of that by making sure that you financially take care of them with life insurance, red pill, revolution.co.com is for losers again. Um, five star review. I appreciate you so much hit that subscribe button. Have a great rest of your day. If you are listening to this, uh, in the, um, as it was put out, it is the 3rd of July, uh, when I'm recording this in 2022. So happy fourth, I hope you enjoy your weekend and have a great day. Welcome to the revolution. Thank you.

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-Ū.

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 26, 2022 21:54

____ I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? SUPACREE I don't know. I can't remember. MORGAN You “don't remember.” DILLON'S ASSISTANT What did you do with that bitch?! DILLON FRANCIS I don't know! I don't remember! DILLON'S ASSISTANT You “don't remember?” [Noone remembers.] Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! ___ SUPACREE Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) JOEL/DEADMAU5 Thanks. SUPACREE You're welcome. JOEL/DEADMAU5 K. SUPACREE So. BOTH YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] JOEL/DEADMAU5 WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SUPACREE I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] JOEL/DEADMAU5 (he opens the box, unseen from the view of the audience) Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. SUPACREE I know dude. JOEL/DEADMAU5 UH-WHO ARE YOU? SUPACREE I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] ___ Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. PRINCE: I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. PRINCE: I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl PRINCE: I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? DILLON FRANCIS Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? JESUS CHRIST If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... DILLON FRANCIS (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… JESUS CHRIST Hm? … Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? … *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] GERALD WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! SUPACREE Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! DILLON FRANCIS WHAT HAVE I DONE!? GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? CHAK CHEL Dillon--What have you done. SUPACREE WHAT--DID YOU--DO. DILLON FRANCIS Just...Voodoo. GOD VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) ___ Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? [-creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered.] What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? >RAVE> --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” THE BEATLES Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. ___ MORGAN Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) PAGE You'd never know. SUPACREE ...I knew it... MORGAN What did you do with it? SUPACREE I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. MORGAN Oh, wow. SUPACREE Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. MORGAN That's--wow. PAGE Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. MORGAN You're right. SUPACREE I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [SKRILLEX in shorts.] (She cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- –right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- __ What is this. __ --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? ___ SIR. SKRILLEX STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? ___ I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. ___ I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also, other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. CHINESE WOMAN --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. [pause] I know how to get her here. ___ DUDE ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE Look, it's a long story. DUDE Well make it a short one. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE So I….dropped the bass, and then… CHINESE WOMAN AND DEN? DUDE —And then? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- DUDE --sideways and forward, at the same time-- SKRILLEX/SUPACREE >>>Yes. It was a lot. ___ Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her surprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [C.C. (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me s

america god love jesus christ music american time death live movies father google power earth apple mother rock pr moving water space hell online reality deep thinking nature dj food girl tips fun dance left gardens dad satan forever darkness drop event jewish dead gods weird 3d original grammy poor hotels iran stage divine nazis run hearts stone ufos beyonce stuck hamilton hits act wars paradise happy birthday tickets monkeys michael jackson crash throw prophet gotta lol souls plays invasion b2b fuck vip guys window jail sleeping wtf powers imagination retreat lower patterns halo twelve elements bet ascension tennis opens i am squad pi prophets explain bitch punishment infinite roller coasters mormon greed contracts careful jumping void sol djs ev fat walks trains pages nah sauce mad element billie eilish alchemy flashback surprised permanent tenet bucket perform ridiculous destroyed helicopters turnaround alchemists spiders ve bro trance socks met gala spongebob squarepants rick and morty splash djing aha sends cc baldwin voodoo mm heavens rave sir skinny dimensions pornhub underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon technically directions bad things cosmo miserable morty welp int dang hmmm prostitution eco santa clause lit shoots umbrella gel staring hm charlie sheen avicii tying sticks and stones hoes pop tarts ran guardian angels tits ethos skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god bruh zooming yuck mmm permanently method man oh my god se7en whatcha capone for free valet deadmau5 music production goddamn spirit world three times love it stfu lalo colosseum stunned flip flops sunni class action father time mainstage ahem fucked up frantic did you know i won sweetie commonalities pasquale ascended masters dan harmon hehe kandi expansions og h dillon francis motherfuckers in god we trust tsh hardstyle yas never again neva hah christian nation chel awww aww exaggerated r u ok ext mind blown heh crypt keeper fuck you unh god complex binoculars getter no pants inhabitants three people volts on time uhh aight yeah right pft alternately deadass hot hot hailey baldwin scary monsters sampled psh mmhmm jesus it agh viva mexico katey sagal three cities rezz free water yuh it does what the fuck hahah space wars yesh god dream my future are you happy bigwig beckys oh good northern america hanzel worldbuilders admit it owsla heeeeey yeahhhhh fvck hellevator uhhhhhh thedarkside red cups first of all ahe matt maeson gretl sweet brown drop the bass apple radio and nothing nice sprites nyo source light allison wonderland to where awwwwwwww

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Play Episode Listen Later Jun 26, 2022 21:54

____ I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? SUPACREE I don't know. I can't remember. MORGAN You “don't remember.” DILLON'S ASSISTANT What did you do with that bitch?! DILLON FRANCIS I don't know! I don't remember! DILLON'S ASSISTANT You “don't remember?” [Noone remembers.] Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! ___ SUPACREE Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) JOEL/DEADMAU5 Thanks. SUPACREE You're welcome. JOEL/DEADMAU5 K. SUPACREE So. BOTH YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] JOEL/DEADMAU5 WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SUPACREE I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] JOEL/DEADMAU5 (he opens the box, unseen from the view of the audience) Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. SUPACREE I know dude. JOEL/DEADMAU5 UH-WHO ARE YOU? SUPACREE I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] ___ Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. PRINCE: I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. PRINCE: I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl PRINCE: I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? DILLON FRANCIS Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? JESUS CHRIST If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... DILLON FRANCIS (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… JESUS CHRIST Hm? … Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? … *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] GERALD WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! SUPACREE Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! DILLON FRANCIS WHAT HAVE I DONE!? GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? CHAK CHEL Dillon--What have you done. SUPACREE WHAT--DID YOU--DO. DILLON FRANCIS Just...Voodoo. GOD VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) ___ Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? [-creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered.] What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? >RAVE> --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” THE BEATLES Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. ___ MORGAN Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) PAGE You'd never know. SUPACREE ...I knew it... MORGAN What did you do with it? SUPACREE I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. MORGAN Oh, wow. SUPACREE Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. MORGAN That's--wow. PAGE Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. MORGAN You're right. SUPACREE I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [SKRILLEX in shorts.] (She cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- –right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- __ What is this. __ --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? ___ SIR. SKRILLEX STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? ___ I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. ___ I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also, other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. CHINESE WOMAN --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. [pause] I know how to get her here. ___ DUDE ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE Look, it's a long story. DUDE Well make it a short one. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE So I….dropped the bass, and then… CHINESE WOMAN AND DEN? DUDE —And then? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- DUDE --sideways and forward, at the same time-- SKRILLEX/SUPACREE >>>Yes. It was a lot. ___ Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her surprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [C.C. (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me s

america god love jesus christ music american time death live movies father google power earth apple mother rock pr moving water space hell online reality deep thinking nature dj food girl tips fun dance left gardens dad satan forever darkness drop event jewish dead gods weird 3d original grammy poor hotels iran stage divine nazis run hearts stone ufos beyonce stuck hamilton hits act wars paradise happy birthday tickets monkeys michael jackson crash throw prophet gotta lol souls plays invasion b2b fuck vip guys window jail sleeping wtf powers imagination retreat lower patterns halo twelve elements bet ascension tennis opens i am squad pi prophets explain bitch punishment infinite roller coasters mormon greed contracts careful jumping void sol djs ev fat walks trains pages nah sauce mad element billie eilish alchemy flashback surprised permanent tenet bucket perform ridiculous destroyed helicopters turnaround alchemists spiders ve bro trance socks met gala spongebob squarepants rick and morty splash djing aha sends cc baldwin voodoo mm heavens rave sir skinny dimensions pornhub underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon technically directions bad things cosmo miserable morty welp int dang hmmm prostitution eco santa clause lit shoots umbrella gel staring hm charlie sheen avicii tying sticks and stones hoes pop tarts ran guardian angels tits ethos skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god bruh zooming yuck mmm permanently method man oh my god se7en whatcha capone for free valet deadmau5 music production goddamn spirit world three times love it stfu lalo colosseum stunned flip flops sunni class action father time mainstage ahem fucked up frantic did you know i won sweetie commonalities pasquale ascended masters dan harmon hehe kandi expansions og h dillon francis motherfuckers in god we trust tsh hardstyle yas never again neva hah christian nation chel awww aww exaggerated r u ok ext mind blown heh crypt keeper fuck you unh god complex binoculars getter no pants inhabitants three people volts on time uhh aight yeah right pft alternately deadass hot hot hailey baldwin scary monsters sampled psh mmhmm jesus it agh viva mexico katey sagal three cities rezz free water yuh it does what the fuck hahah space wars yesh god dream my future are you happy bigwig beckys oh good northern america hanzel worldbuilders admit it owsla heeeeey yeahhhhh fvck hellevator uhhhhhh thedarkside red cups first of all ahe matt maeson gretl sweet brown drop the bass apple radio and nothing nice sprites nyo source light allison wonderland to where awwwwwwww

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Play Episode Listen Later Jun 26, 2022 21:54

____ I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? SUPACREE I don't know. I can't remember. MORGAN You “don't remember.” DILLON'S ASSISTANT What did you do with that bitch?! DILLON FRANCIS I don't know! I don't remember! DILLON'S ASSISTANT You “don't remember?” [Noone remembers.] Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! ___ SUPACREE Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) JOEL/DEADMAU5 Thanks. SUPACREE You're welcome. JOEL/DEADMAU5 K. SUPACREE So. BOTH YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] JOEL/DEADMAU5 WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SUPACREE I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] JOEL/DEADMAU5 (he opens the box, unseen from the view of the audience) Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. SUPACREE I know dude. JOEL/DEADMAU5 UH-WHO ARE YOU? SUPACREE I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] ___ Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. PRINCE: I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. PRINCE: I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl PRINCE: I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? DILLON FRANCIS Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? JESUS CHRIST If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... DILLON FRANCIS (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… JESUS CHRIST Hm? … Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? … *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] GERALD WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! SUPACREE Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! DILLON FRANCIS WHAT HAVE I DONE!? GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? CHAK CHEL Dillon--What have you done. SUPACREE WHAT--DID YOU--DO. DILLON FRANCIS Just...Voodoo. GOD VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) ___ Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? [-creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered.] What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? >RAVE> --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” THE BEATLES Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. ___ MORGAN Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) PAGE You'd never know. SUPACREE ...I knew it... MORGAN What did you do with it? SUPACREE I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. MORGAN Oh, wow. SUPACREE Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. MORGAN That's--wow. PAGE Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. MORGAN You're right. SUPACREE I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [SKRILLEX in shorts.] (She cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- –right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- __ What is this. __ --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? ___ SIR. SKRILLEX STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? ___ I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. ___ I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also, other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. CHINESE WOMAN --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. [pause] I know how to get her here. ___ DUDE ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE Look, it's a long story. DUDE Well make it a short one. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE So I….dropped the bass, and then… CHINESE WOMAN AND DEN? DUDE —And then? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- DUDE --sideways and forward, at the same time-- SKRILLEX/SUPACREE >>>Yes. It was a lot. ___ Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her surprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [C.C. (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me s

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Play Episode Listen Later Jun 26, 2022 21:54

____ I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? SUPACREE I don't know. I can't remember. MORGAN You “don't remember.” DILLON'S ASSISTANT What did you do with that bitch?! DILLON FRANCIS I don't know! I don't remember! DILLON'S ASSISTANT You “don't remember?” [Noone remembers.] Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! ___ SUPACREE Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) JOEL/DEADMAU5 Thanks. SUPACREE You're welcome. JOEL/DEADMAU5 K. SUPACREE So. BOTH YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] JOEL/DEADMAU5 WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SUPACREE I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] JOEL/DEADMAU5 (he opens the box, unseen from the view of the audience) Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. SUPACREE I know dude. JOEL/DEADMAU5 UH-WHO ARE YOU? SUPACREE I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] ___ Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. PRINCE: I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. PRINCE: I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl PRINCE: I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? DILLON FRANCIS Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? JESUS CHRIST If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... DILLON FRANCIS (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… JESUS CHRIST Hm? … Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? … *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] GERALD WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! SUPACREE Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! DILLON FRANCIS WHAT HAVE I DONE!? GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? CHAK CHEL Dillon--What have you done. SUPACREE WHAT--DID YOU--DO. DILLON FRANCIS Just...Voodoo. GOD VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) ___ Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? [-creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered.] What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? >RAVE> --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” THE BEATLES Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. ___ MORGAN Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) PAGE You'd never know. SUPACREE ...I knew it... MORGAN What did you do with it? SUPACREE I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. MORGAN Oh, wow. SUPACREE Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. MORGAN That's--wow. PAGE Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. MORGAN You're right. SUPACREE I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [SKRILLEX in shorts.] (She cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- –right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- __ What is this. __ --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? ___ SIR. SKRILLEX STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? ___ I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. ___ I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also, other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. CHINESE WOMAN --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. [pause] I know how to get her here. ___ DUDE ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE Look, it's a long story. DUDE Well make it a short one. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE So I….dropped the bass, and then… CHINESE WOMAN AND DEN? DUDE —And then? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- DUDE --sideways and forward, at the same time-- SKRILLEX/SUPACREE >>>Yes. It was a lot. ___ Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her surprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [C.C. (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me s

america god love jesus christ music american time death live movies father google power earth apple mother rock pr moving water space hell online reality deep thinking nature dj food girl tips fun dance left gardens dad satan forever darkness drop event jewish dead gods weird 3d original grammy poor hotels iran stage divine nazis run hearts stone ufos beyonce stuck hamilton hits act wars paradise happy birthday tickets monkeys michael jackson crash throw prophet gotta lol souls plays invasion b2b fuck vip guys window jail sleeping wtf powers imagination retreat lower patterns halo twelve elements bet ascension tennis opens i am squad pi prophets explain bitch punishment infinite roller coasters mormon greed contracts careful jumping void sol djs ev fat walks trains pages nah sauce mad element billie eilish alchemy flashback surprised permanent tenet bucket perform ridiculous destroyed helicopters turnaround alchemists spiders ve bro trance socks met gala spongebob squarepants rick and morty splash djing aha sends cc baldwin voodoo mm heavens rave sir skinny dimensions pornhub underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon technically directions bad things cosmo miserable morty welp int dang hmmm prostitution eco santa clause lit shoots umbrella gel staring hm charlie sheen avicii tying sticks and stones hoes pop tarts ran guardian angels tits ethos skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god bruh zooming yuck mmm permanently method man oh my god se7en whatcha capone for free valet deadmau5 music production goddamn spirit world three times love it stfu lalo colosseum stunned flip flops sunni class action father time mainstage ahem fucked up frantic did you know i won sweetie commonalities pasquale ascended masters dan harmon hehe kandi expansions og h dillon francis motherfuckers in god we trust tsh hardstyle yas never again neva hah christian nation chel awww aww exaggerated r u ok ext mind blown heh crypt keeper fuck you unh god complex binoculars getter no pants inhabitants three people volts on time uhh aight yeah right pft alternately deadass hot hot hailey baldwin scary monsters sampled psh mmhmm jesus it agh viva mexico katey sagal three cities rezz free water yuh it does what the fuck hahah space wars yesh god dream my future are you happy bigwig beckys oh good northern america hanzel worldbuilders admit it owsla heeeeey yeahhhhh fvck hellevator uhhhhhh thedarkside red cups first of all ahe matt maeson gretl sweet brown drop the bass apple radio and nothing nice sprites nyo source light allison wonderland to where awwwwwwww

[THE FOURTH SEASON] {TACO TUESDAYS @ 3 P/T}

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 24, 2022 13:43

____ I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? SUPACREE I don't know. I can't remember. MORGAN You “don't remember.” DILLON'S ASSISTANT What did you do with that bitch?! DILLON FRANCIS I don't know! I don't remember! DILLON'S ASSISTANT You “don't remember?” [Noone remembers.] Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! ___ SUPACREE Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) JOEL/DEADMAU5 Thanks. SUPACREE You're welcome. JOEL/DEADMAU5 K. SUPACREE So. BOTH YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] JOEL/DEADMAU5 WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SUPACREE I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] JOEL/DEADMAU5 (he opens the box, unseen from the view of the audience) Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. SUPACREE I know dude. JOEL/DEADMAU5 UH-WHO ARE YOU? SUPACREE I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] ___ Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. PRINCE: I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. PRINCE: I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl PRINCE: I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. DILLON FRANCIS Oh, Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? DILLON FRANCIS Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? JESUS CHRIST If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... DILLON FRANCIS (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… JESUS CHRIST Hm? … Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? … *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] GERALD WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! SUPACREE Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! DILLON FRANCIS WHAT HAVE I DONE!? GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? CHAK CHEL Dillon--What have you done. SUPACREE WHAT--DID YOU--DO. DILLON FRANCIS Just...Voodoo. GOD VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) ___ Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? [-creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered.] What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? >RAVE> --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” THE BEATLES Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. ___ MORGAN Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) PAGE You'd never know. SUPACREE ...I knew it... MORGAN What did you do with it? SUPACREE I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. MORGAN Oh, wow. SUPACREE Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. MORGAN That's--wow. PAGE Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. MORGAN You're right. SUPACREE I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [SKRILLEX in shorts.] (She cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- –right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- __ What is this. __ --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? ___ SIR. SKRILLEX STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? ___ I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. ___ I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also, other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. CHINESE WOMAN --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. [pause] I know how to get her here. ___ DUDE ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE Look, it's a long story. DUDE Well make it a short one. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. SKRILLEX/SUPACREE So I….dropped the bass, and then… CHINESE WOMAN AND DEN? DUDE —And then? SKRILLEX/SUPACREE And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- DUDE --sideways and forward, at the same time-- SKRILLEX/SUPACREE >>>Yes. It was a lot. ___ Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her surprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [C.C. (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me s

america god love jesus christ music american time death live movies father google power earth apple mother rock pr moving water space hell online reality deep thinking nature dj food girl tips fun dance left gardens dad satan forever darkness drop event jewish dead gods weird 3d original grammy poor hotels iran stage divine nazis run hearts stone ufos beyonce stuck hamilton hits act wars paradise happy birthday tickets monkeys michael jackson crash throw prophet gotta lol souls plays invasion b2b fuck vip guys window jail sleeping wtf powers imagination retreat lower patterns halo twelve elements bet ascension tennis opens i am squad pi prophets explain bitch punishment infinite roller coasters mormon greed contracts careful jumping void sol djs ev fat walks trains pages nah sauce mad element billie eilish alchemy flashback surprised permanent tenet bucket perform ridiculous destroyed helicopters turnaround alchemists spiders ve bro trance socks met gala spongebob squarepants rick and morty splash djing aha sends cc baldwin voodoo mm heavens rave sir skinny dimensions pornhub underworld uncertain takes jimmy fallon technically directions bad things cosmo miserable morty welp int dang hmmm prostitution eco santa clause lit shoots umbrella gel staring hm charlie sheen avicii tying sticks and stones hoes pop tarts ran guardian angels tits ethos skrillex insomniacs edc s p joyride oh god taco tuesday zooming bruh yuck mmm permanently method man oh my god se7en whatcha capone for free valet deadmau5 music production goddamn spirit world three times love it stfu lalo colosseum stunned flip flops sunni class action father time mainstage ahem fucked up frantic did you know i won sweetie commonalities pasquale ascended masters dan harmon hehe kandi expansions og h dillon francis motherfuckers in god we trust tsh hardstyle yas never again neva hah christian nation chel awww aww exaggerated r u ok ext mind blown heh crypt keeper fuck you unh god complex binoculars getter no pants inhabitants three people volts on time uhh aight yeah right pft alternately deadass hot hot hailey baldwin scary monsters sampled psh mmhmm jesus it agh viva mexico katey sagal three cities rezz yuh free water it does what the fuck hahah fourth season space wars yesh god dream my future are you happy bigwig beckys oh good northern america hanzel worldbuilders admit it owsla heeeeey yeahhhhh fvck hellevator uhhhhhh thedarkside red cups first of all ahe matt maeson gretl sweet brown drop the bass apple radio and nothing nice sprites nyo source light allison wonderland to where awwwwwwww

Dillon Francis

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 22, 2022 61:15

I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? I don't know. I can't remember. You don't remember. What did you do with that bitch?! I don't know! I don't remember! You don't remember? Noone remembers. Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) Thanks. You're welcome. K. So. YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU? I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. I know dude. UH-WHO ARE YOU? I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. Oh, Jesus Christ. What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… Hm? Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Dillon--What have you done. WHAT--DID YOU--DO. Just...Voodoo. VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? -creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered. What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) You'd never know. ...I knew it... What did you do with it? I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. Oh, wow. Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. That's--wow. Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. You're right. I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [in shorts.] (she cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- What is this. --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? SIR. STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. I know how to get her here. ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? Look, it's a long story. Well make it a short one. *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. So I….dropped the bass, and then… AND DEN? And then? And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- --sideways and forward, at the same time-- >>>Yes. It was a lot. Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her suprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [Sunni Blu (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me see. [Does.] ...what master is this... The revision I got in my email this morning. From who? From you. WHAT? BRO. YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE WENT OUT TO THE DESERT-- ---YEAH--- --AND WE BURNED THAT-- ---YEAH--- MY ENTIRE STAFF GOT THAT IN THEIR EMAIL THIS MORNING. WHAT? I thought that was the only copy. IT WAS. WHAT THE FUCK. BRO THIS NIGGA. THIS NIGGA. NIGGA. [Skrillex] did A [Skrillex.] Three People Know About It. [Skrillex] is not one of those people. Woah. So. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. Oh, no…. ...I just don't get it; I'm really sleepy. Well yeah...you are ...dead, so. What? I'm dead? Oh, yes. That explains it. It... actually doesn't expla

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Skrillex

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 22, 2022 61:15

I guess it just is what it is, then Comin fresh out the whip, like, “I'm off hiatus” Gonna jump for a swim in the ‘bitch,' Itchin drive me crazy; Gonna need 6-10 stitches, the doctor say He's in big business, with the witch Tengris– Gotta play Tennis while I watch Tenet all in ten minutes (On my small engine/indjun) Turn around do a spin, drift like i'm Ben Ten, And it's intense, like I been campin, –Then I ditched Skrillex. Just moved in, but it's been lived in Set some new intentions, Get bent, got some new addictions, spin zen, got some new additions Big Wig like I'm Hamilton in some New Editions Did some big mentions, I should send dick pics. Watch this. “It's Dillon Francis” Now I'm real famous, But i'm still nameless– I just made the game up, Still got jealous haters *coughs* I should say Gel-ous Cause she got her nails did *indjun; American slang for native or indigenous peoples of Northern America. [THE FESTIVAL PROJECT.] _________ [Three cross dimensions are about to collide into a singular reality. Three hospital rooms, three ensembles, three patients on their deathbeds;] Three Cities, Three Main Stages At Three Major Music Festivals. Three superstar DJs at the decks. Did we make it? Is it too late? Is she gone? Where is she? Are you serious? We're never gonna make it. NO! 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? 3 dimensions: Wait, what happened? "Are you okay?" This isn't happening. Do we have time? Never say Never. -We'll never make it -Don't say that! Are you ready? Yo, where IS she? He's like, crazy or something. She's crazy. This is craaaaazy. Ok, first of all-- Go! Go! Go, now! -So, she already told you beforehand? -Yes. NO! YES! YAAAAAAS. All dimensions: No/NO NO, OH GOD NO-- "YES, OH MY GOD" (sampled) (What?) "JESUS." (Sampled from, Coffee Run) (What?) Don't-- What are you doing here? (Angrily) Ū!!!! It's YOU! A group dancing to Soulja Boy (Youuuuuuuu!) (Rollercoaster sample from Scatta) I don't know, he's been, you know-- -Did you know? -No… -DID YOU KNOW? Know what? What? What is what? (From Deathbed) ...Water… Surprised reactions, at the bedside -Run! -How much time do we have? -Take all the time you need. Time...Ah, yes, I--yes, I remember Time... She says it all the time, I didn't think she'd actually– He's gone. She died, right? ------------ "Running Out Of Time" [Frazzled and haggardly beaten, having exhausted everything attempting to unravel an endless web of timelines tied together ultimately by inevitability, he frantically rifles through his apartment, tearing through every corner, fiending for any energy source. He uplifts the couch cushions, tossing away various (insert easter eggs here) objects, empty portal guns, as the vibrations from a buzzing phone alert him of an incoming call, he fishes armpit deep into the crevices, red faced and cracked lips, cursing: --c'mon, c'mon--how did this get so fucking DEEP. God DAMN IT-- ------ By Chak Chel's bedside, The Ascended Masters are gathered surrounding a weak and lifeless GOD/Chak Chel in her absolutely oldest physical body. Oh man, I don't think she can handle many more of these Damnations, it's just more and more damage… I told you we should have Destroyed that damn planet! She created that planet-- It's not about the planet, it's the inhabitants. If we annihilate humanity now, the planet itself may regenerate with time… Time…? I-- They all turn their heads toward Chak Chel, as she drifts back out of consciousness. PAUSE *EDIT* What? Just– What!? What would it be like to listen to some Skrillex right now? NO. NEVER AGAIN. [Thinking, drifts away.] *listening to deadmau5, thinking about Skrillex* Hmnnn. Moar Ghosts N' Stuff. *Synth Drops In* Nope, I'm Good lol. CUT TO: I told you I could be Joel's cat. Oh, wow, nice. JOEL NO, MEOWINGTONS, NYO !!!!!!!! Meheh. UNPAUSE CUT BACK TO: She's so lost to time... If she succumbs under this darkness, it could be eons before The Light is restored. It may never be. INSOLENT CREATURES! Perhaps we should prepare for invasion. Invasion? They are primitive beings, barely reached the outer realms of consciousness-- We'd be waging an all-out war, on an intergalactic scale; the magnitude of this could ripple through --infinite-- --infinite dimensions-- This is everything. Everything is Everything. Pft. Yeah--until it's nothing-- Oh, yeah--just add to the amount of negative energy-- might as Well just push her into The Void. I'll push you into The Void. Nothing I haven't been through. Yeah, dude, we've all been through The Void. ...I am The Void... I was at THE ASCENSION! Where were you?? (They argue loudly.) [The Crypt Keeper Lurks Silently in the corner.] Guys. [The room is in upheaval, an outroar of arguments have erupted amongst the Gods, the Ascended Masters and other chosen leaders from each realm throughout the multiverse. ] ...Shhht, quiet... [The Crypt Keeper slowly lifts up her staff, in slow motion ] (SUPACREE shakes her head at the crypt keeper, gesturing "no, don't" ) Guys. [As the crypt keeper lowers her staff, SupaCree begins to emit a shining white light.] GUYS! THE CRYPT KEEPER CHARGES HER STAFF INTO THE GROUND, SHAKING THE WORLD WITH A THUNDEROUS FORCE, THREE TIMES. The fabric of the entire multiverse begins to shatter. The room cowers in fear and uncertainty. CHAK CHEL (very weakly) Where's Dillon…he...he should be back by now… Wait, Dillon- Dillon WHO!? Dillon Francis? Wait--what? Dillon Francis, are you serious? Oh, God-- --Shh-- Sorry, I just--seriously--? Dillon Francis. It's always Dillon Francis. Tell me about it, Jesus Christ-- --SHH--!! It's fine, I put the light inside of that one. What light? You put the Divine light of The Source inside of that guy? I'm not a--wait--what light? What's a "Dillon Francis?" We had to hide it. CHAK CHEL Dillon? ...he...he should be here by now,-- I--I have to give him more time… Wow, Dillon Fucking--the whole time– (Tying into the dimension where SupaCree has just divulged that her favorite DJ is Dillon Francis.) That's her apprentice? What! Explains how he's always everywhere, I guess-- Except here. --yeah, where IS he anyway? Yeah, I mean--he should have been here awhile ago. What the fuck does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? I mean really. [The Gods have quietly moved into a secret chamber, hidden from the rest of the–] WHAT THE FUCK. WHO did this? We had to act quickly-- It was a unified decision; DECISION BY WHO? [They fall quiet.] WHOSE idea was it to hide the Divine light of the source within this--this--imperfect and flawed excuse for a body? What genetic catastrophe allowed for this creature to have been created? Her genetic code is what allowed us to be able to-- --THE GODS ARE CREATED IN OUR IMAGE! WHAT TAINTED IMAGE IS THIS? ITS AS IF SATAN CREATED IT, IF SATAN COULD-- ...Satan Sealed The Shield... [The Gods all react in surprise and horror.] ...What… WHAT? You entrusted SATAN with the encryption of The– Not me. Chak Chel. WHAT? ...what? Why would...why would… Why would she trade her immortality for– She sacrificed her connection to The Source? What for? She would sacrifice anything to save humanity from extinction. She...loves that planet, and its inhabitants. She believed in the overall good of humankind, that they could one day come to know Love. To Be Love. She was created and designed specifically to be the embodiment of life and light itself-- The Prophecy (III) [THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled, the ensemble shieled by an ‘inpenatrable' invisible forcefield; SUPACREE senses the energy field, Which she walks into, nonchalantly.] She has awakened her consciousness far more quickly than was ever expected-- The Origins Once we send her back, she will have been three times resurrected from Death. How is she to bring these...this planet so drowned in darkness into the light? She can. She will. She has. There have been innumerous witnesses to the manifestations and miracles the power of the light has given her. And she's yet to use the entirety of the Source power to its full potential. Still, these instances of power manifestation have left a shockwave amidst many, even the Prophets, as foretold have discussed a solidified following amongst the alchemists, sorcerer-- --even mortals who have come to practice in the occult sciences-- She has believers. (Uhh...I think it's a cult. What's a cult?) In the dimension where the world has succumb to darkness-- -The Mormons!? -Oh, really? Hm. -Jesus. [Enter Mormon Jesus] In the same reality, Which SUPACREE has been trapped in for nearly a eternity in entirety now, she sits drenched in sweat inside her car, as onlookers from the surrounding affluent neighborhood peer into the vehicle with disgust; she looks much like a crackhead talking to herself; however, Jesus, Neva, Se7en and Goldie's anamorphosis personifications by The Guardian Angels accompany her, Avicii, also omnipresent, but unable to be seen or heard in the material reality, even between The Spirit World, which SUPACREE has journeyed deeply into, in search of Chak Chel--who has consistently been leaving hints in Nature, guiding her eventually into "God" (A Long Drive, With You, Friends) A very Jewish woman sneers, glaring at SUPACREE through the window. Telepathically, very loud and disapproving of here mere presense. (CONT'D) … She just doesn't believe in herself. The Darkness has been working to weaken the potential of The Light for quite some time now. There is an evil in the power of man, darkness in the consumption of currency-- --she's been targeted by her own country as an enemy, which the world powers see as a threat-- --her, a threat--? --she had political ambitions. These men wage war over currency, the hypocrisy of religion. America. She has the ability to be one of the most powerful leaders in human history. She acts instinctively in Love. A target? Her world has been long lost from love, succumbed to the darkness, the primitive error of man. Greed. She has overcome more alienation, more life altering loss of light in just this lifetime than can And, has been raised by the shepherds and priests in the teachings of the great kingdom. She brings herself to Death in despair and sadness. She cannot live with the power of The Source Light in the loss of Love; the pain becomes too great. And now? She's been bestowed by the ancients the wisdom of her true origins. So she knows… She knows that in the absence of Love, there is no Life left to light. Love is the thing that weaves together the fabric of space and time. Reality Is… AH, JESUS CHRIST! SUPACREE appears behind DILLON FRANCIS in the doorway silently. The Bampheramph Line rings, he hopes it is Hanzel--it is Chak Chel--he rolls his eyes, tossing his phone to the side You should probably answer that. DILLON FRANCIS You should probably shut the fuck up, how about that? SUPACREE Relax. I need you to listen to me--remember that thing-- DILLON FRANCIS Which THING? EVERYTHING? Like EVERYTHING IS EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING? Like that!? Huh! SUPACREE ...yes, it's that exactly, actually. DILLON FRANCIS. "Exactly, actually--actually," SUPACREE appears in full form, out of the translucency of the higher realms and into the personification of the third dimensional realm. SUPACREE Come on, dude, we don't have time for this! DILLON FRANCIS Time? What the fuck is time? SUPACREE Come on, Dillon, we really don't have time for this, I'll explain it-- DILLON FRANCIS Explain it when? When you have time? [He turns to see her, standing in the doorway; A simple plain white T shirt and blue jeans.] (gh0st.) SUPACREE I'm trying to tell you, dude. It's time. DILLON FRANCIS Wait, why do you look--wait, which dimension is--whats different about--wait (Sampled "Wait", at the crosswalk) sneakers launch from the sidewalk and into the busy intersection, in a sprint. "Two genres: Hardstyle, and Country." "I don't know what the 3rd world war will be fought with, but the 4th will be with sticks and stones." This begins the battle against "good" and "evil", " darkness" and "light", "life" and "death"--but as the Source, Gods and Ascended Masters all know, that all are one in the same--that these concepts only exist within a primitive human psyche. The collective consciousness of "hybrids", hyper-intellectual "human" individuals with extraterrestrial origins and ancient ancestors, predating the human era (which some distant--even technologically-- advanced beings amongst intelligent civilizations throughout the cosmos infinite galaxies ever expanding throughout the outer realms of the multiverse, all of consciousness "And there is no "all", because infinite means that it has yet to end." *Moving sand (the universe) into a giant space dump truck/space dump.* ...is that all of it? SŪPA and SKRILLEX, after both having been involuntarily flung "around" an infinitely expanding universe, are finally head to head after hunting each other in realms beyond time and space for literal eternities; The peak of their confused fury comes to a face-to-face blowout, to which the likes the Heavens nor the Underworld ever have seen. In dimensions where people are tuning in on multi/interdimensional cable, the audience is glued to their seats. (People in rural areas are going through obscene and ridiculous lengths to get a signal so that they can tune in. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: RICK AND MORTY MORTY Ohhh, oh shit Rick! I-its that show, with the--uhh, uhhh... RICK Which 'uhh-uhhs', Morty--the big ones, or the little ones? MORTY Uhhh–'Flying Magic DJ Monkey Unicorn Space...Wars...I think. RICK Oh, you mean ‘Space Rave? You mean like, where they're at a rave *belch* in-in-in Space? Or something like that? MORTY No, it's Monkey Flying Magic DJ...Monkey… RICK --You said "monkey" twice-- MORTY (CONT'D) ...Space Wars… RICK I don't know, Morty--last time I allowed myself to participate in a music festival, it got, uh, *coughs* It got pretty deep. Flashback: DILLON PICKLE FRANCIS// PICKLE RICK Flashback Within Flashback :The Hellavator Flashback within Flashback Within Flashback: SŪPA dropping the bass, eliminating RIck and Morty/justin roiland (and Dan Harmon, I guess) from existence in entirety. RICK ...yeah, I uhh. Let-uh-let me see that. [He takes the remote control from morty, switching between the channels. They are all SupaTV original series, eventually skipping past 'Ricky and Mo', an over stereotypically alternate Rick and Morty, where the characters are black. (And features an animated Ricky (from Run Ricky Run) as its main character. RICK [w/MORTY] What the-- MORTY Go back, Rick! Everybody's favorite DJ is about to battle her favorite DJ. RICK --who, what? H-h-holdon-- MORTY, rushing over to the television, hurriedly switches the channel back manually to its original channel, from a dimension where the drama has been documented as a melodramatic soap opera meets gameshow. ANNOUNCER [W/MORTY] DUEL! RICK Duel the wha--oh my God, what is she doing with that chicken wing--? Ū! RICK This is just, brutal-- MORTY That was just a highlight. The boss fight is live. RICK Boss fight... Live--wait a minute--i know that lady! F I G H T. [HANZEL and GRETL are, of course, selling scalped tickets and portal guns to fans who have been following along as the series progresses, They play a 'Deep Deep Deep Bass House' HANZEL (it's a new genre) B2B set, which emits a magical low frequency bass, opening teleportals which immediately transport attendees into the Colosseum, where a furious SONNY/SKRILLEX and a rage-fueled SŪP∆CREE have "randomly" (actually, the result of a carefully planned (and in some dimensions/worlds, failed series of coordinated efforts from various sides, creating wormholes, time gaps, opening (and/or closing) portals with certain intentions, and creating "coincidences" between their two worlds which ultimately expand or collapse the respective universes within the multiverse at their centers. [The festival is in full swing; Behind the scenes, our beloved DJs ready themselves accordingly. ] Everybody's there. (Also, this is where "Everyone's a DJ now" gets really out of control.) *spoiler alert* DJ battle underway. This is the all-out cage match of magic music ninja All the Rave Weaponry. All the Jesus. Everything. The calm before the storm: The theatre and excitement of the largest scale highest production quality and rave culture values ever known to man (or otherwise). A living, breathing ECO system which expands outward, the Colosseum at it's center, where sparkles with the decadence of the Mainstage. Unassumingly, strolling along stage right SKRILLEX sips on a refreshing beverage--surrounded by his entourage and bodyguard, as per the usual. Stage left, SŪPA and her #squad are big chillin', eating lollipops, ice cream cones, popsicles, and cupcakes… super classy. *supaclassy. DILLON FRANCIS lurks nervously in the background. (He's in the background of every scene, in different clothing, Bampheramphing hectically and sweating bullets. *probably on something. In some cut scenes he is in SŪPA's entourage, in drag--eating a taco, or hot wing rather than candy. He is still being flung around the infinite multiverse, both with purpose and intention for each "side", and has become something of a omni-agent, completing tasks within the multiverse for almost every force imaginable (and yet to be imagined, infinitely forever after.) SŪP∆, after being transported through a multilayered wormhole, threaded across the Insomniac (and live nation) festivals and concerts she's attended throughout the years and dimensions. Uncertain of which actual realm and dimension she's ended up in, (obviously, one where her SŪP∆ Brand has become a success, realizing her dreams of becoming a "superstar DJ") without the panel, she must summon her forceful energy and light magic by combining her natural intuitive powers and ancient knowledge insight. She performs various tests within her current reality, as she 'attempts' to recover and pull herself back together, having been only just moments ago cosmically annihilated for a series of infinite eternities, whilst looking for Skrillex. Luckily, she still possesses the Golden Flash drive. It is the final of her array of rave weapons, and by far most powerful. Skrillex is Skrillex. They lock eyes from across the stage. An explosion. -blam- (MIND = BLOWN.) (((throughout the dimensions))) AAARE YOU READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEE TV VIEWERS: nervous/excited/scared/happy/sad MORTY Oh, shit! It's on! It's on! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. HE SEEN HER! HE SEEN HER! *tribal dancing*/chanting* DILLON FRANCIS from center Sees SŪP∆CREE seeing SKRILLEX, squinting in confisiouson (when you think so hard, you momentarily turn into confucius.) She's mad. DILLON FRANCIS Oh--NOOO. He snaps his neck in the opposite direction, to see SKRILLEX seeing SŪP∆CREE, squinting Skrillex-y. (That's extra, extra hard.) He's mad. DILLON FRANCIS OH GOD, NO! He morphs into DILLON GLANCES and DILLON FLANCES, respectively. (3) Wtf is this like a fucked up shadow-clone juitsu? Just– DILLON FRANCIS (To Dillon Glances: giving him the Golden Flash drive) I have to--I gotta--just take th- DILLON GLANCES I can't. DILLON FRANCIS You CAN. DILLON GLANCES I can't. I'm not a DJ. DILLON FRANCIS Everyone's a fucking DJ, DO IT. DILLOn GLANCES Jesus. DILLON FRANCIS: JUST DO IT. [They run off in three seperate directions: DILLON FRANCIS runs to center stage, attempting to prevent the all out massacre of DJ dueling about to take place…] DILLON FLANCES runs into the festival's huge and quickly growing-crowd, as people literally appear out of various portals and wormholes from all over the multiverse. crowds of party goers, exiting them, attempting to open portals to evacuate them to a less fragile timeline. DILLON GLANCES, who is–in fact– not a DJ, a Bampheramph, or time traveler of any sort.. (by any purposeful means, anyway. He " just kind of gets "sucked in to this shit") —eventually crowning him as an Honorary Bampheramph (which people hate, because it's still an extension of Dillon Francis.) —-posing as Dillon Frances, steps up to the decks SKRILLEX and SŪP∆ charge towards each other furiously-- Nobody knows what to do. As they draw closer to each other, radiating in fury and anger, they each explode. SŪP∆: YOÜ. SKRILLEX: YOŪ. They charge forward. BOTH: AHHHHHHHH!!!! An energy field opens; invisible energies take on color and shape in the outer worlds. Reality shifts. yelling. BOTH: WHERES MY MUSIC? BOTH: YOUR MUSIC?! BOTH: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! SKRILLEX: No, who the fuck are youuu! SŪP∆: NO, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? (Simultaneously, to stage managers) SŪP∆: what is HE doing here? SKRILLEX: what is SHE doing here? BOTH: I'M ON THE LINEUP. SŪP∆: Of Course you're on the lineup. SKRILLEX Oh please, How did YOU get on the lineup? DILLON FRANCIS *Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, very out of breath and almost dead, still bleeding from open heart surgery through his shirt, face covered in hot wing sauce* Let me explain… BOTH: DILLON FRANCIS?!? BAMPHERAMPHS: ((From across the stage, viewing with Binoculars.)) …Dillon Francis? —Dillon Francis? What is he doing here? –Ugh, Seriously. Dillon Francis Again? DJ RICH AS FUCK Yo, Fuck Dillon Francis. DILLON FRANCIS Yeah, fuck Dillon Francis. … ...Aren't you Dillon Francis…? DILLON FRANCIS [Pointing at himself, on the stage. No, that's Dillon Francis. They turn to look back at the stage, DILLON FRANCIS vanishes. What the-- SUPACREE/SKRILLEX: (Now with anger directed towards Dillon) What are you doing here? DILLON FRANCIS: *Dazed and confused* Uh--I'm on the lineup. SŪP∆: How? SKRILLEX: Why? DILLON FRANCIS: Jesus Christ, I don't know, ok? Just please don't-- SŪP∆: Don't ‘WHAT Dillon Francis? blast this lil motherfucker out of every kind of fathomable existence with a billion giggatwats of NUCLEAR BASS? ! LIKE, THREE PEOPLE (at least) Giggatwats? DOC BROWN Gooodddamn. [GOD is going mad from all the goddamned goddamns. The Hellavator, hanging by not even a thread, has gone into its final stages of devastation and horror, as it nears taking its eternally damning plunge into the nearly infinite caverns of the underworld, Satan's domain of darkness.] Meanwhile, in multiple other dimensions: Have you seen the lineup? Are we going? We're going. We have to go. RAVEEEEE. Ohhhh shit. No. I'm not going. I have to go! Where are you guys going? PASQUALE: (flashback, daisy overalls.) You guys, where are we going? The brothers are looking through a futuristic digital catalogue of intergalactic raves throughout time and space. Yoooooo. What--you find something? Yoooooo. ...is it good? (Shows the lineup, obscured from view of the camera) FVCK. YAS. All the 'yas' SAUCE. All the sauce. Yo what planet is this even; what dimension is this in, like? Says, Earth. Earth?! No fucking way, earth doesn't have raves in any dimension I've ever heard of. [Coming in from other room.] Where doesn't have raves? Earth. Yo, what the fuck is "Earth." Bet you it's fake. Bet you it's not. Check on it. Google. Google Ūniverse is a holographic multidimensional map of their galaxy's known multiverse. They scroll through eons of galaxies, solar systems, planets, and stars the likes of which make our own galaxy, and our own sun appear to be nothing but specs of dust. Where is it? I don't see it anywhere. I told you it was fake. No. Keep going. Further. Keep going… Are you serious, where is this planet. Are you sure it's a planet? It's gotta be. Dude, there's nothing out here. Keep going. To what. This looks like a black hole ate a black whole. Something like that, what's that there? This puny galaxy? I don't think that's a galaxy. Oh, it is… They all tilt their heads, squinting. ...or.. was… They tilt their heads to the opposite side, squinting. ...or might be, someday. Or something. I don't know man, looks kinda fragile. 'Explore' "The Milkyway Galaxy" Ew. What is it? It's so dark. Well yeah, look at that tiny Sol. There's only...wait how many planets--? It's not much. I don't know man--you wanna go to a rave here? That's… (Shows the advertisement) Oh wow… Looks back at our galaxy, with a discerning consideration, then back at the ad, then back up at the "universe" I don't know man. That's way out there. Like...nowhere, actually. [Scrunched face of disapproval] "Earth." Come on guys. I mean-- (Plays promo) [EDC] DAMN. Aight. OKAY. Woooow. They all look back at the map, worriedly. Zooming in on earth. Mmkayyy. Hmmm. Yeah, this thing looks fragile. Yeah,look at that weird axis. (Wobbles) That can't last too long. This entire universe is on the verge of collapse. How did that...even...happen? The whole thing is like... All: huh. ...if we leave now, we can make it, gates open. Over 20 stages, live art, food-- --FOOD-- ...and...wait, that can't be right. This says "free water" WHAT? FREE WATER? OH WHAT. A RAVE SLASH INVASION? we don't have to invade if they're just giving it away FOR FREE. Free. Water. Psh. Water. It's a trap! Could be. Yeah, Free Water. ...it says...the almost the entire surface of this planet is what? What? That seems dangerous. It's almost entirely water, guys. That's impossible. CUT TO: I TOLD YOU. IN-FIN-ATE. Nothing is impossible. But I thought nothing was nothing. Nothing is nothing. It's also something. And everything. Which is also nothing. But I thought everything was everything. Yes, which includes, and simultaneously also excludes but certainly not limited to, nothing. But when does it end? It...it doesn't, it just (gestures)...infinite. you know? So it just...doesn't… Stop? Yeah. No. It just keeps-- Yeah. Going. --and then nothing. Which is something. Yeah, nothing's something. Then what's something. Something's a something-- Anything. Some-thing. Yeah, but 'some' is just 'some' thing, not everything. Yeah, everything--anything. Anything can be something, and something can be anything. Which-- Which means,nothing's nothing--something can be anything, and anything can be something; which is everything. And-- Nothing. --so-- Infinite. “Once Upon A Dillon Francis” Once Upon a Dillon Francis… AGH. No. Start over. Uh, ok. Once upon a Dillon Francis. Stop saying that. Yuck. Why are you saying that? What? Once Upon a Dillon Francis? That makes Dillon Francis sound like Father Time! Yaghh! Okay? You can't say that. Why? Because he isn't. He could be. But he's not. So? Just. Go back. Okay...Once Upon A Dillon Francis. (Groans) Ok. Stop it. This isn't working. Because you're not letting me even-- No story ever started with Once Upon A Dillon Francis. This one might! If it starts with Dillon Francis, where would it-- Imagination is the key to all creativity. You made that up. I'm making up the whole thing! What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything-- He doesn't. Just listen! I'm not listening to anything that starts with Dillon Francis. Well what would you rather me say, once upon a Skrillex? Now that's more like it! No, it's not. It's just unsettling. It is. You know what! Forget it. There's no story. What, because there's no Dillon Francis? Exactly. What? Because. Ï You... I don't know about this Just keep-- This makes me feel some kind of wha. What kind of way every kind of way-- wait. “Remember Ryan” I do remember Ryan “Fuck Dillon Francis” Rich Nigga Shit. And your shirt. So-- So?! Who the fuck is this guy? He's Dillon Francis. No, who the fuck is he?! Not who-- Huh? What. Whatthefuck-- What? WHAT? Hanzel (& Gretl) are originally from Hell or 'The Dark Side', this gives reasoning to their stoic and sometimes henius mannerisms. Halo by Beyonce is multidimensional (listen, study) This car needs some wheels is about loving yourself (and to learn how to love someone else) "The Skrillex" The Cosmic Owl Chak Chel's Family-- The brothers Bampheramphs --old people -&Sonny/old lady in the park dog walking Rick n roll--dillon pickle Francis/pickle rick roll) (rock n roll) will take you to the the mountain No boys allowed//no Skrillex allowed Wait here. Why can't I just come with you? No boys allowed. Can't you see the sign on the door? What sign on the door? She places a sign on the door. Wait here. But. 5 minutes. Walks in, shutting door behind her. But. Opens sliding window hatch on door, peeking out. I'll be right back. But. A note is shoved backwards through the mail slot, and floats down between his feet. He picks it up to read it; it is a blank sheet of paper. He deflates. Gleeful girly cheers and chatter, laughter and and upbeat music from the other side of the door; an obvious party starts inside. Hours pass, Sonny is falling asleep standing up. He hears 3 women approaching, and excitedly shakes himself awake. He stands to the side, posing. What's up! (They cannot hear or see him. he isn't yet aware of the forcefield placed around him, for his protection (as he is being hunted throughout the universe.) Girl: Dude, I can't believe you know Rezz. Hey! Girl 2: yeah that's sooo cool. Girl: Yeah, VIP. Is like-- Girl: Oh my God, I bet it's like so lit. Girl: So Lit. Girl: Oh my God, yeah. I'm definitely doing VIP next year. Girl: Definitely. Girl: So worth it. Girl: So like, what time does it start-start? Girl: ummm, I don't know, but I think we're like early. Early!? Girl: Should I--oh, hey--im getting a call. It's the other DJ, I think she's inside already. (It's Ū) Girl: Hello? What up Ū! Ū? Hey! Heeeeey! Girl: yeah, we're at the door. Ohhhh shit, for real? Ok. (hangs up) yeah, she said she'll be down here in like, 5 minutes. Apparently the music's bumping, they couldn't even hear us at the door. Psh. 5 minutes yeah right. Girl: daynmm. Girl: yeah, there's like 10 famous DJs in there in there right now. Look at this snapchat I got earlier. Daaaam. Lit. I heard there's gonna be more. Is that Allison Wonderland? Allison Wonderland opens the door. Hi Guys! No way! It is Allison Wonderland! Hey!! Come on in guys! Girl: (closest to Sonny, but walking towards the door) wait, did you guys hear that weird. Girl: kind of, not really Girl: yeah I don't really believe in ghosts, but sometimes-- By now, Sonny has noticed that he hasn't been seen or heard by anyone and assumes his likely invisibility. However Allison Wonderland, being a DJ, has the ability to see through this force field (unbeknownst to him that it even exists.) Sonny stands at the door, staring. She stares back expressionlessly, straight into his soul with indifference of his presence. A brief silence, before Sonny furroughs his brows. She just stares at him. ...wait, can you see me? ...No. She shuts the door. Jack and Jill I'm elessian park You left your sister where Doctors A-Z (doctor p's planet; boogie t distant relative) Scary OWSLA (1000 VOLTS, WESTWOOD) GIANT JOSH PANDA THE SOUL SALESMEN THE CIA/FBI/MEN IN BLACK DONT FUCK WITH TIME (IRL) FROZEN SKRILLEX FOREST FIRE (REZZ) Ralph, Wendy, Denny, Trader Joe Mr moto guy Tips>>>SKRILLEX I thought we were done writing these. I guess not. Get the fuck back, Dillon Francis. Woah, I--okay. JUST STEP BACK. That's a gun! It's a bayonet. That's...where did you even get something like that? I time travel. That...makes sense. It has to. Wenzday. She's pretty. Aren't they all. They are. Maybe her. Anyone but you, huh? How would it ever be me? Still don't believe? How could I ever believe. They're all perfect. And Talented. And white. Can't forget white. And thin. Never forget thin. So why would it ever be me? Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe's a maybe. And a Skrillex is a Skrillex. And Sonny's a Sonny. So-- So, Billie Ellish. My Future. See you in a couple years. Its chasing a wild goose. It's chasing monsters and sprites. It's chasing, but only if you're running. Run, Sunni-- Run Sonny-- Run. This goes around in circles. Goes around like seagulls in the sky. Getter. What did getter do? What did Skrillex do? What does Dillon Francis Have to do with anything? Nothing. Jimmy Fallon --was never nothing-- What does Dillon Francis have to do with anything? Still don't know. What about Pasqualle? Still don't know. And Skrillex? Fuck--I really don't know. Don't you? Alright. What do you know? Commonalities. And? Patterns. And…? Red Cups, Beer Bottles, and Pop-Tarts. What's it look like? A shallow pool of hard liquor. So? So, they can afford alcoholism. You see it that way? I don't see. Don't you? That's the same question twice. It's the same question, infinitely. Who are you? Who am I? Exactly. What's your DJ name? Depends on the day. What's your name, now? I'm Sunni. To replace Sonny? Nothing replaces that. What's in the music? An algorithm--a hidden code, maybe? Maybe. Maybe's still a maybe.[ What are they looking for? A savior? Now you've given yourself a God Complex. As if the world already hadn't. The world had, I just refused to accept it. Until? Until everything. At once, right? And nothing. Why does Annie keep coming up? You must be on her mind. I'm dead to her. Who? Exactly. She thinks you'll make up. Please. She's latna and native. And an alcoholic. So. So she's perfect. So she is. I'm not forgiving her. Again. Maybe you don't have to. If the DJs want her, they can have her. She's a perfect storm of a hoe. Hoes are fun. Until they're not. What are you? A ghost. Why does she keep coming up? I don't know. I've had two dreams about her. She misses you. I could give a fuck. You could? IDGAFOS. Happy Birthday, Dillon Francis. But you won't tell him. His fandom will. I'm done inboxing people. These people live on beaches; I'm a grain of sand. So go find your beach. Viva Mexico. Probably so, huh? Probably. Left in a world without people, realizing she is completely alone, Punishment be ones Paradise, as she enjoys all her favorite places, without the pollution, population or politics in her way. The happiest she's ever been, she approaches EMPTY EDC, still perfectly intact with the gates wide open. She runs inside,losing her mind-- and then losing her enthusiasm entirely, realizing she cannot dance in silence, or operate any of the rides by herself (which, in one dimension higher, she uses the power of the mind to start manifesting all the things she needs,creating a perfect EDC) however, in the most limited dimension, where even manifestation can be fathomed, and no use of magic, she sadly strolls through the empty carnival--though, having found solace in the typically overpriced fashion and merchandice apparel, has ransacked the empty and abandoned shops, looking ridiculously ravey, looking like a 3D insomniac billboard, sparkling with Kandi and shining flashing lights. She approaches the front and center of the rail, her usual favorite, as she looks up at the decks of The BassPod. She just looks, as she sips an acai berry smoothie out of a collectible cup. Cree: You look like a fucked up cupcake. SupaCree: You look like a fucked up cupcake, ate a fucked up cupcake, and then put on a sweater. Cree: Hey man. Fat is Fat. I'm in Infinite Eternity: INFINITE EDC, BITCH. SupaCree: Oh yeah? You like being the fattest fat ass dancing fatass at the everlasting motherfucking fatty fattass fat... dance... Cree: Hmmyeahh--Hows it feel being the lastest-fast-having-last past life past-afterlife--flattest -ass-last-fan-of-DillonFrancis-random-dancing-at-the-lostest-awful-rotten-sauced-forgotten-boss-of-not-a-lot-of-bought-a-bag of -frazzled-skrillex-dicks-you-wish-you-licked-but-didnt-cause-they-wouldnt let you in the the artist tent if you farted in it, in -different-dimensions you were in INFINITE but now you're ISNT-ISNT-ISNT IS THE CLOSEST cause you're not a fucking DJ BITCH, YOURE JUST A WISHIN WASHED UP WISHING WELL YOU'RE STILL FAT!! PPL ALTER EGO I wanna look like her! —oh, that's a guy —well, still. For I am just a shadow of what I once was; And all of a fraction of what I would become, Were it not for love There you are. There I was. Oh, my God. How long was I gone? Long. I'm sorry. No, you're not. Oh shit, that sounds F.U.N… FUN!? FUCK YOU, NIGGA! Oh good, the Dolphin On Wheels is here. "THIS. IS. OWSLAAAAAAA" ARE YOU SERIOUS!? Serious as a Dillon Francis Bampheramph. What even IS that? You're looking at it. ________ NO PANTS! what?! (Takes off pants) HEY! NO PANTS, Dillon Francis! Have a banana. I don't wanna banana! I want pants! NO PANTS. gimmie your hat. (Leaves) It is. An Element. Can... I base... my survival solely on elements--is--the question. That is, actually--as it stands, what we were intended to do--I suppose. Elements. Alchemy. Alchemists. Ahhhh. Those. Ahhh. D-- Hmmm. Mmm. Okay. This is gonna take a long time to work out. What doesssss--- ...Hello… Aha-ahaha... ...What does Dillon Francis have to do with this? I don't know. *laughing in 4 different dimensions* I know, right? *snickers* Well, that's another drop in the Fuck-It Bucket Not that Bucket. [honks] Ahe, Hehehe I didn't-- Actually, I did know that-- I did know that-- I did know that I had two Fuck-It Buckets. I had forgotten... about all the buckets. Just like I almost about the Hellavator. How is that going, by the way. Oh what--the Hellevator--or the Party on the Hellevator? Or the scene...where Hanzel's on the...Hellevator with Dillon Francis? I-- *reacts in 4 different dimensions* Oh, wow. I know! It's gonna take forever. Forever's almost nothing compared to an eternity. Yeah--forever is almost nothing, compared to an eternity. *smacks lips* And then that, motherfucker… FUCK THAT MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck that motherfucker. *sirens sounding* YEP. *blasting magic* Yep. ...yep. This is why we don't need a wand, anymore--because--you see that? Yep. Well, -- you don't see it, Well I mean, that's just part of the joy--you just know. You don't have to see it, you just know. Oh, you mean like... [mimicks ******** ] ..Kinda like that… But…??? Gonna Hit that red dot and never stop What's that--the 4th dimension? Ah, the 4th dimension. The “r” word Yeah, yeah, yeah Like political correctness even matters. The only thing that matters is matter And why have I never been for a Joyride? Last thing I remember, I was having the time of my life... [rifling through things, as Dillon sits down at his desk—he puts on a pair of librarian-like frames, adjusting them to fit at the nose] You don't wear glasses. Uh, I do wear glasses, I am wearing glasses. I just never—you know—thought of you, like— Yeah, well—not all of us are known by our trademark frames. I detect a hint of bitterness. Oh, you can detect that? What device do you have that does that? …...my...senses. Heh, you look like Katey Sagal. I love her. Same. [rifling through papers, doing office things] What's taking so long, Peg? Well, Al, if you must know it's going to take me a minute to get into my ‘Skrillex', it's been awhile. How long's awhile. Hey—you came through my panoramic window demanding Skrillex. Tsh, like it's never happened before. (Or like it's always, never happening) What? Hey—who said that? So how long's this gonna take? I'm gonna need you to exercise patience—that is, if you're familiar with excersise. PATIENCE?! What the fuck is Patience?? Are you done yet? Patience—patience—it's like—it's almost like “patients, like what a doctor has— —oh don't even— *hands up* Not gonna even. … … … Did you— I told you it has been a minute. >>>< >>>>>>> >>>>< What kind of company do you think I keep?! In this installment, which follows Scary Monsters and SupaCree and crosses over into both DILLONCEPTION, and enter the multiverse. Having nearly abandoning the ideal of becoming a superstar DJ, a reality she had previously become certain of, but given up on after being led to believe the DJ world is one ruled by white supremacy, SUPACREE, going by “CC” and operating under the pen name CC stone crafts a somewhat plausible future in entertainment, still creating music under the moniker “Sunni Blu” or DJ U, still passionately attached to Djing, though as a hobby, rather than as a potential career. In a pseudo-suicidal depressive state, our protagonist explores all the infinite realms of her own creation, drifting into a lucid God-Dream in which all the dimensions of her writings exist, in each respective reality, sometimes crossing timelines from one “fictional” realm into another, as the writer struggles with her own self-confidence and self-actualization. We Open With A Blockbuster-Style Movie Trailer. Everyone Is At The Event, Where Everything Happened. She broke everything in my house. Everything? Ev-er-y-thing. Hah, I broke all of his stuff. All of it? Everything, dude. Hehe. All of it. No, Like--Literally, Everyone, Ever. What did you do to this girl? _ EXCEPT… I don't get it. She hates Dillon Francis. She does— hate Dillon Francis. So why would she go to this? [They enter simultaneously.] YOU! YOU! [They charge.] EH. [She-- CUT TO: Sunni Blu is writing a Movie. —- I don't get it, how do I write about magic? I don't know, just say what it looks like--- Cut To: Staring at Skrillex. [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “The World Builders” [Staring at Skrillex.] [It's...an anomaly.] Yeah, she's just been staring at it, I think for… Doesn't matter how long, dude--she's gonna get stuck in it. OF course she's gonna get stuck in it, she doesn't know who built it. ...who did this…? “Think about it; What would you do that would leave a profound effect on Skrillex. I've...been...trying to figure that out, maybe. Pi. Look, it's S U P A C R E E. Oh shit, these are DIRECTIONS. To WHERE, tho? Dude, I have something to tell you. What. It's bad. Why, what happened? It's... look, no one else can know about it, okay? Okay... Oh shit, she's a Trance artist now? Trance? I don't know how to make trance. This one time, I held my breath meditating to it, and I just-- Just what? —- That's it. It just ended. What? Yeaaauhh dude. I don't fuck with Skrillex. For a lot of reasons. … I think I might be a writer. Oh no. She's a writer. Oh, no. ___ Oh, NO. I am not touching that with a $10,000 dollar paycheck! $!0,000--what the fuck am I gonna go with $10,000? ($10,000 is the rich people equivalent of $10) Yo. Poor people will do just about anything for $10. What? No, they won't. Yes they will--hey--watch this. Hey! [guy looks] I'll give you $10 to hop across the street on 1 foot. D1- He just does it See. D2- Does it, gets hit by a bus. See. That guy died. For $10. D3- Does it, gets hit by a bus; but is S U P A C R E E and resurrects instantly, then comes back for vengeance, capturing 2 more. What, she has their souls? Hearts and Souls. Goddamn. (Literally) Well, I told you Jesus quit, right--? Yeah, he's...he left. Jesus is watching “The Movie” So you swim into a port that has a boat. A boat-- Then you get on the boat. Get on the boat. That boat is going to take you to another boat. Okay, another boat. I TOLD YOU THERE WAS ANOTHER BOAT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE FIRST ONE HAD TO SINK, TO BOARD IT. Oh, yeah, well--duh. So then--on the second boat-- Well, it's more like a really big Ferry (It's a monstrous cruise ship) Yeah, that shit made groove cruise look like...what's the poor people equivalent of groove cruise? There is no “poor people equivalent” Well then--how do poor people rave on boats? They...don't. That doesn't seem fair. Yeah--where's the equality? There's no such thing as equality in poverty! Actually-- HAH. THEY CALL IT “GOD'S COUNTRY” I'm not taking responsibility for this. I didn't do this. “IN GOD WE TRUST” NO, that just means; the trust is empty. It's empty. This...this used to be a reservoir. It still is...a reservoir. Of water. Oh. It's a “Christian Nation?” Christian? What's a Christian? It's-- NO. Jesus, listen. NO. YOU LISTEN: FUCK. THAT. FUCKTHAT. Oh, he was mad. He was pretty mad. He still is, mad. He is, pretty mad. Dad, what happened? It doesn't matter, it just had to happen. Why did it ‘have' to happen? If you have even to ask; I don't have an answer. Ogh, dude. I know. It's almost time to go back to work. I know. Oh, my God. I know. How long have we been in this Void--it's so random. [The whole #SQUAD is on Watch.] Hm. What is this? [A look] Can I have some? [Another look.] I like it. I want it. [The Look.] I'mma try it out. OK. __ Ask Him! He knows! How to get to Skrillex? (still censored) Yes--you know. He knows. You know, right? I don't know. What? I--? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. (It didn't happen.) Fuck. NO dude, I found it--I just don't remember how… Do you remember when? Ah, I remember my first Skrillex. I don't. Oh My God dude. Flip Flops? Yes, my feet are killing me. [Skrillex ]is in 10 minutes. Actually, 9. The Hotel is 7 minutes away.; The car is parked in Valet; If we leave now, we can make it back by the time it starts, I swear. You SWEAR? __ Ooh...Beyonce...I like her. We all like her. Give her something nice. Nice. Very nice. Very nice. What do you want her to dress as? Oh her? ...she can come as herself. [the next part] Yo FUCK the Met Gala; I'm going to THIS shit. What? You were invited? I want to be invited! How did you get an invite? ((Oh, you can't write that)) Damn right I won't. Lol, she had her dress as Beyonce. That's cold. She stole Umbrella! She stole it first! It wasn't even written for her--! It wasn't written for anybo-- Actually, it was written for ME. Oh yeah, huh. Why does this song have 32 writers on it? What the fuuuuckkk... What. We have [Skrillex.} Skrillex. How did you get a [Skrillex?] Just--[Skrillex.] “Just [Skrillex”?] The Original. Oh, shit. The Original [Skrillex.] Like, the first one? First one ever. Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] I didn't take it. STFU “didn't take it”--Where the fuck is my [Skrillex?] Oh what--[Skrillex?] We have [Skrillex!] You do? Of course we do! It's paradise. Oh, wow. Oh, wow. If that man sits at a piano, I will pass out... Oh wow, he plays piano...hmm. I will faint. How did he DO this? This Volcano emits *this* frequency. Ah, try this-- Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites. Oh. I know this one. Do you? Yeah! Bruh. I'm about to take a lot of drugs right now; I'm just calling to tell you that I love you. What happened? Nothing happened. I'm just like this now. What's that? Nothing! What is it? Nothing! It's [Skrillex], isn't it. I don't get how he DID this. Someone give this man an honorary doctorate. Think about it like this; if all this is happening to you, and you have-- --No Grammys-- --and he's got-- --Eight Grammys. Eight Grammys, really? Damn, what the fuck. I know, right? Right. So. If he has eight Grammys--and you have none-- --zero Grammys-- --and you're experiencing this right now-- Damn, what the fuck happened to him? [Over the phone] ...She shat in my Grammys. What! All Eight of Them? YES. I didn't shit in his Grammys. You didn't? NO! Well, that's good, because-- I hired other people to shit in his Grammys. What? Best $80 I ever spent. Why are we terrorizing [Skrillex?] He started it. He did start it. See, this is why I like him--he doesn't ask questions. What? You hired 8 different people to shit in his Grammys. Yeah! Dude, that is disgusting! Dude. You hired three different photographers to take professional photoshoots of my dick. Look; These were all done on location; we went to Catalina...it was kind of cold though-- WHAT THE FUCK. Dude, this is like 9 lawsuits. Well, actually, one of them is a Class Action, so that's actually like a dozen actual complaints rolled into one; I don't know why they do that. {SupaCree has arranged literally “many seats” for both Skrillex, and Dillon Francis.] {Sweet Brown's Monologue: Well, Sweetie, I'll tell you what; That's a tough way to go. I'll give you one more go at it; and She Stole All of our Music! All of it? NO! Just the HITS! (awws) ‘ATROCIOUS C' ? What the fuck is THIS? Hmmm Atrocious C and the-- Wait--what was it called again? Oh shit. Black Jack Black. That was it. Right? Yeah, that was the original joke, I think. You think? Yeah, I think--But then I remembered Atrocious C Wait, Atrocious C was a real thing? YEAH dude, it was my cover band in college. COVER BAND IN COLLEGE? YEP. Black Jack Black Black Jack. Oh no. Yep, he was there. Remember that $10,000 I gave you yesterday, and you said you didn't want it? Yeah… I need it back. No. What? You said you didn't want it! Yeah, then you made me take it anyway, so I spent it! Well, what'd you spend it on?! Dude, where are we going? If I knew, then it wouldn't be an adventure! Please, no [Skrillex.] PUMP THE SHIT. Dude, is that [Skrillex?] Go the other way. What? Why? TURN AROUND . Seriously, what was that? TURN AROUND. “Turn arouuund” She wrote the whole...movie. What the fuck is a “movie”? I should record this. “record” ? OK, FIRST OF ALL. [Skrillex] has Magic Powers. SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHSHUTTHEFUCKUPPPPPP. Wow, 14 Pages. What...language is this... -It's In English -It's in [Skrillex.] YOU KNOW I CAN'T READ-- Ugh, yeah, I can translate this. It's alphanumeric.. You algebraic motherfucker. Damn. Is he still over there? Yeah. Goddamn. …. Goddamn. Hey. Uh. Come in. ...it's nice in here. It is. ...did you take out a wall? Window. Oh. Okay. Yeah. Where's Dillon? Oh, he's... chillin. {Dillon Francis is sleeping like a-- No dead baby jokes. I wasn't going to make a- [He's laid out, alright.] How long has he been sleeping like this? ...I don't know...awhile. How long's “awhile”? We've been trying to call him. I know. I have his phone… That explains the inspirational breakfast messages. What? I stopped getting mine! I found your preceding messages to be in bad taste. CUT TO: Everyone is laid out. She is going through their phones. Woah. This is a lot of tits. So many tits. Tits. Tits. Tits. Oh hey--look at these. Oh, I don't like that. What is that? CUT BACk: Oh, you saw that…? I saw that. And I deleted that. And I blocked your number. (shamefully) Oh. On everyone's devices. What the fuck. Permanently. Oh. Yeah...You should go, now. [Does] Dude, she has me carrier locked with every provider in the united states; I had to get a burner just to try to get through to all of my contacts everytime I try to make call it somehow gets intercepted. Hahah. he had to get a burner. Haaaah. wow , you really did it this time. Now I can listen to their calls. What? That's impossible-- NO IT ISN'T dude. I don't know how she's doing this--it's like every time I--HELLO? --What? Hello? Hello? Hm. Haaah, I disconnected them. Dude, what are you doing to these DJs? FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJs. FUCK THESE DJ'S. And that guy over there. Hey, who is that guy anyway? I don't know...he kind of looks familiar… Yeah, he does...I...I think I might have seen him perform once… Preform? Perform what? Music? … YEAH, HE DOES MUSIC! I REMEMBER. THIS GUY'S A DJ. ...I'm...not a DJ. HE'S A DJ. LETS GET HIM. What does he do? Who, that guy? [Skrillex.] I don't know. What's up, I'm “Not A DJ”--- YOu should probably be careful with it... Careful with it. Be careful with it, it's limited [Skrillex.] Limited [Skrillex.] Mmhmm. Lets get it. We probably shouldn't. Mm. I feel like we should Dude, it's limited. ___ Cosmo and Wanda are on their way to The Event Cosmo. What? You should probably stop drinking. Why? You're flying sideways. Alright. Try water. WATAAAAR!! __ Dude, how long have we been dead for? Dead for? Yeah, man. I don't know. Yeah, me neither. She didn't make it. Didn't make it? What do you mean, is she okay? No, I mean--she's dead… WHAT? That's not ok. I don't get it, what is she doing? This is just how she does it, shut up. Yeah, but what is she doing? [Skrillex!] He's here? He's here! I gotta go! Get gone! [Skrillex?!] Yuh! Fuhck! If he's here, then i'm already late. Late for what? Pretty much anything, you name it. His...Name...Is… DON'T SAY ITl DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! He's been sleeping for...several days. [Still Staring At The Sky} Who DID this!? Explain it to me! Explain it to you? I can't explain to you! Are you seeing this? I'm in it! Everything's in it! __ Bruh. I know, dude. A little man climbed out of my sub this morning, and I'm just saying---I don't know if I can take it. I don't know how I'd take that, either. I can't take it. There's just one thing you should know: What? When the bass drops, so do we. DROP. What did you do with Dillon Francis? I don't know. I can't remember. You don't remember. What did you do with that bitch?! I don't know! I don't remember! You don't remember? Noone remembers. Deadmau5: I remember. Deadmau5 Remembers Everything. This is why he is “like that.” WHY AM I LIKE THIS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T REMEMBER. So wait--Deadmau5 knows the entire story? well , yeah. Wait, which story? All of them. What the fuck! Happy Birthday! (he is canadian, so he is morbidly polite) Thanks. You're welcome. K. So. YAH! [they both draw their rave weapons] WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU? I AM IN “THE FUCK” YOU'RE “THE FUCK”, YOU DICK. Here's your gift. [She tosses it.] Oh, Gosh--this is... actually exactly what I wanted. I know dude. UH-WHO ARE YOU? I'm YO(U) . [They do not battle. He just accepts it.] Have you seen this rock? It's...not a rock, it's… Well, have you seen it? Yeah I've seen it. It's pretty sick. Yeah… (Delirious) Oh My God--A Tiny Man...with a tiny scythe…. I am not a man. I'M NOT A WOMAN. ---he changed his name to a symbol. I'M NOT A MAN. “is [_____________]” a boy or girl I AM SOMETHING YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. Oh, Jesus Christ. What dude. What the fuck do you want? What? Wait, you're...Jesus----Jesus-Jesus??? If you insist on still calling me that, I told you ages ago... (to himself) ...that makes so much sense…Jesus… Hm? Hey wait--are you still--sleeping--kind of? *wakes instantly* Sleeping? Who's sleeping? I'm not sleeping! Chel. HUH. [they squint at each other suspiciously] WHO'S THE PINATA NOW, BITCH?! Oh, my God, Gerald! Get a hold of yourself!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Dillon--What have you done. WHAT--DID YOU--DO. Just...Voodoo. VOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (She's mad.) ((Oh, she's so mad)) (((Mad, what's that?))) Bruh. She bleached my asshole. What! Yeah. And then tie dyed it. Trending: Rainbow Taint. Bro. How did you even find out about that? -creative ways you might find out, your junk has been permanently altered. What, it's PERMANENT. Dude, how Am I supposed to explain my LITERALLY Blue Balls? --I”M BLUE DA BA DE, DA BU DI__ I thought it was “Da BU Di--Do-Bu-DI” Obblah-di, Oh Blah-da; Life goes on, brah-- La-Da-Da-Da-Life goes on. I don't know. I might be a writer. She's a writer. She's a writer! Oh No! She's a rider. Oh, that's robust. Oh My God--It was that big? (Nods) You'd never know. ...I knew it... What did you do with it? I just wrapped it around my leg and tucked it into my sock, most the time. Oh, wow. Yeah. I had to layer, the tube socks. That's--wow. Yeah. I mean. When you're right, you're right. You're right. I just get confused about it when I see him in shorts now. [in shorts.] (she cocks her head to the side and squints, staring very suspiciously) (Later) We find that -- Woah. What. This is ridiculous. It is. [Skrillex] is Ridiculous. It is. So wait. This dudes dick. Oh my God. Is so long-- right He just opens up a portal to another dimension, so he has some place to put it while he's doing business-- What is this. --So it doesn't get in the way. Lol. Pocket Portal. Why did you DO this? Who did this? SIR. STOP CALLING ME THAT. SIr, it was “not enough.” What? I don't get it, so he's like a psychic? [Skrillex] is a psychic. Mm. No. No, he isn't. Uh, yes he is. No, he's not. He's just from the future, so he knows what's in it. Oh. Which future? All of them. Wait, which human era? ... Oh, I've seen the movie. How could you see the movie, it doesn't exist yet? Oh. It exists. What? It does? Yes. And It is fucked up. Like, in a good way? just FUCKED UP. Bruh. I went to go see [Skrillex] last night. Oh shit. How was it? IT WAS FUCKED UP Like, in a good way? JUST-- I JUST-- I JUST, ADJUST. There. There it is. Adjust. I don't see anything. Veer Weest. There! There! Right! There! *gasps* Wait, I think I see it. I see something. Wait. Is that. Adjust. *gasp* it's moving. It is moving, It appears to be moving. I can't just leave it, they'll find it--I have to keep moving it. You can't keep moving it--the planet can't handle it. There are still humans on it! I know there are still humans on it, that's where I left them; but I can't just put it back, and I can't just leave it out here for the Inter--Galactic-- Interdimensional-- Whatever! I'm not just gonna leave it here for some aliens to turn into a trash planet.It's not a trash planet. (It's, basically a trash planet) It's a trash planet. Okay, well--it's my trash planet! And. I already annihilated--or, am in the current process of--annihilating all the evil soulless demon people-things. All the Bad Things. It has a lot of badness. Yes, but recently less badness. Kind of. And also less water. Everyone's thirsty now. But...I mean, we always were, kind of. Especially in LA. What is your process? This is it. Look. Look,This planet-- Trash Planet-- Trash--Look. Its full of primitive species-- OKay-- And also other things that shouldn't be there. Alright. And it's almost dead. Or dying. Or...dead already. It's dead. It's a dead trash-planet. But I can't let anything [else] happen to it. --AND DEN-- You caused an entire apocalypse. Well, they called me fat, so. Well great; What are you going to do with your dead post apocalyptic trash planet? You can't keep expanding everlasting galaxies just so you can stuff this piece of crap planet into voids. Aha-Ha. IT'S FUCKIN--AHA-- W-Wait. Where did it go? Where did he go? Where did she go? How did I get here? How DID she get there? I've been looking for you everywhere! That sucks… Where were you? Nowhere. Like, the only place I didn't check! It was the first place I checked. You checked? Yes. He wasn't there. He's not in there. He's not on the lineup. I know how to get her here. ___Dude, I don't know how you did this! How did you DO this? Look, it's a long story. Well make it a short one. *sighs* Look. I was jumping up and down, during my set, like usual--okay. OKay. So I….dropped the bass, and then… AND DEN? And then? And then…(looks off, into the distance, for a moment) I went up, the bass went down; My dick went sideways, and forward-- --sideways and forward, at the same time-- >>>Yes. It was a lot. Yo. What's his power. I don't know. I know you know. Everybody knows you know. What's his power. Ask him. Dude, I know you know it; Just tell me. “Macbook Bro” It's Apples Take on Music Production. Yo dude, these are flying off the shelves. ___ Dude. I jus' joined the mile high club. No way. Yes way. With who? Myself. Nice. It was great. __ So you're telling me-- I'm telling you--what I was told-- That they put him on a helicopter in the middle of the desert-- ---Black Rock City-- Whatever--Burning man--middle of the desert-- _-Yeah-- --Right. And then flew him to-- --”an undisclosed location”-- --okay-- ___ To her suprise, some big-time hollywood producers have taken an interest in her script,; Because she has no formal work experience in the industry, she is being “coached” by seasoned industry professionals as the Film Goes into Pre-Production Okay, I actually just had a few questions about the script… Go ahead, I was wondering about this scene with [Skrillex.] [...Skrillex?] What [Skrillex?] It's...pages… No. It isn't. There's no [Skrillex.] He is introduced as a character in Act... No, [Skrillex ]isn't in this. He...is...I'm...looking right at it. What page? Pages 45, thru… [Sunni Blu (a.k.a. ‘Stone' omits page 45 from all of her written works.] “45” Yeah. There's no...come here. What. Come over here. Let me see. [Does.] ...what master is this... The revision I got in my email this morning. From who? From you. WHAT? BRO. YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE WENT OUT TO THE DESERT-- ---YEAH--- --AND WE BURNED THAT-- ---YEAH--- MY ENTIRE STAFF GOT THAT IN THEIR EMAIL THIS MORNING. WHAT? I thought that was the only copy. IT WAS. WHAT THE FUCK. BRO THIS NIGGA. THIS NIGGA. NIGGA. [Skrillex] did A [Skrillex.] Three People Know About It. [Skrillex] is not one of those people. Woah. So. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. Oh, no…. ...I just don't get it; I'm really sleepy. Well yeah...you are ...dead, so. What? I'm dead? Oh, yes. That explains it. It... actually doesn't expla

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